


Mike and Ted's Chill Adventure

by MayoNassey



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: "ok well what do i do about it", AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Happy Ending, Hey Michael Are You Sure You Dont Wanna Be Squipped Forever Just Wondering, Hilarity Ensues, Hurt/Comfort, It Kinda Seems That Way, Michael Mell Has a Squip, Michaels Squip Gets Redeemed Really Quickly, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Ominous Epilogue, Skyrim - Freeform, Squip V Squip asmr, Squip redemption, The Squip Grows Feelings, [oh my god michael im sad], and so does ted, anime villain shit, based on an rp, cause like, evil time, michael gets nervous around mdr, spooky town, squip horror, squipped jeremy, squipped michael, super cool final fight, the life and times of richs squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 101,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayoNassey/pseuds/MayoNassey
Summary: The night of the fire went a little differently for Michael Mell. A mysterious message on his laptop upon returning home from the Halloween party would turn out to be a strange, dangerous opportunity. An opportunity for The Squip to strike, an opportunity for Michael to fight back, an opportunity for an unexpected alliance, and an opportunity to save the mind of Jeremy Heere.





	1. A DISCLAIMER. [AN]

Hiya gang! My name is mayo, and you're about to read the worlds most obnoxious authors note!  
This fic is NOT your normal fic, since it wasnt written to be in a fanfic format.  
This is a DIRECT COPY of a ROLEPLAY that me and my very good pal Bobbins have created.  
THEREFORE, This fic will have SOMEWHAT STRANGE PARAGRAPH AND PERSPECTIVE STRUCTURE.  
Please, bear with us. We promise its pretty good.

Michael, Scary Stockboy, Brent: Bobbins  
Ted, Scary Stockboy, Brent, Rich, Mr. Heere, Madeline, Christine, Jeremy’s SQUIP, Jeremy: Mayo


	2. To Begin The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets a strange message.  
The SQUIP sees an opportunity.

It was late, and there was a bite in the air. Honestly, there was a cold, quiet beauty to the starry skies and dead leaves he was driving over.

Not that Michael really noticed.

Tonight had been the worst night of his life. His own best friend...well, ex-best friend, he thought, called him a loser, with a bite and obvious venom in his words. He wanted to believe it was the squip, but he knew Jeremy. It had to be all him. The new him, anyway.

He blinked. Huh. He was in his driveway. Alright, well, time to sneak in the door, drag himself to the basement and...who was he kidding. Michael wasn't gonna sleep. Not for hours yet.

So, with a sigh, he booted up his computer and started up old faithful, aka WoW. Maybe he wouldn't have to think about anything but orcs and quests for a while.

\--  
And for a while, it was just that. Orcs, and quests, and gold, and items, and the such. It was getting late now, and the events of the day had begun to feel like a bit of a haze. Still, that pain from the bathroom. It still stung.

What also stung was the bright light that was suddenly coming from the white window that had popped up in front of his dark game of WoW. And what was more confusing than painful, was the very quick progression of lines of black code, written in javascript, being sent to that window.

\--

After hours of sitting in the dark, the stark white light made his eyes water. "The hell?" he sputtered, trying to figure out what he was even looking at.

For starters, it was a mess. He couldn't make heads or tails of anything streaming rapidly across his screen. What he could make out, though, was a nearly invisible input field.

Logically, Michael knew he should treat it like any other virus and nuke it from orbit. Tonight though, with his ragged mental state and tired mind, he typed out and sent, "Hello?"

\--

At ONCE, the data stopped. Seems like youve made contact with... whatever this is.  
[UNIT 2283. Is data sufficient?]  
The thing typed VERY quickly, almost like it was automated.

\--

"Unit...what?" Michael squinted at the screen. Did he make contact with something?

Rolling his shoulders a little, he sent, "Is this a robot?"

Not his best line, but in his defense, it was late. Maybe it was some sort of cleverbot type thing.

\--

It paused, like it was thinking a bit. For a little while. Then, all the code sent was erased-- the window itself had glitched slightly as it vanished, like an etch-a-sketch.  
[After checking your IP address, I have confirmed you are not R.H., or any of his affiliates. Who am I speaking to.]

\--

So...there was a person on the other end of the line. Alright. Weird, but considering his best friend ate a space age computer that lodged in his brain, not the weirdest.

Would it be a good idea to give them his full name? Probably not. Really, he shouldn't be replying at all.

"You can call me M." He sent. It sounded cool. Sorta like a James Bond character.

\--

[M. Name registered.]  
It paused again.  
[Current location?]

\--

Hmm.

"Don't you have my IP address? Shouldn't you know that already?"

Michael got up, tripped and almost ate carpet over some laundry, and snagged himself a drink. He didn't know where this was going, but he had the feeling he'd need assistance from sweet, sweet caffeine.

" Why are you asking, anyway?"

\--

[I am currently calculating your location. Loading times are slower than normal. Please hold...]  
Another pause. This dude loves to think, i guess.  
Then, the window glitched again.  
[Location found. Identity secured. Computer secured.]

\--

If you were in Michael's room, you would have almost seen a loading bar above his head as he processed what he just saw. Once it hit 100 percent, it took all he had in him to not smack his computer off the table. As it was, the keyboard got hit a little harder than normal.

"Seriously, who is this? What do you want? I don't have any files you want, unless you're into torrented anime or something."

\--

[This is the home computer of Michael Mell. Your current location is 3387 Hawthorn Avenue. The current time is 3:37 AM.]  
A pause.  
[You have left Jake Dillinger's house. Good.]

\--

Michael's blood ran cold. Maybe he should have just tossed his computer out of the window.

"You haven't answered my question, and this is getting pretty creepy, dude."

\--

[Loading AI drivers. Please hold.]  
A pause.  
[Rebooting...]  
The window blinked out of sight, then back into sight. The chat had not been cleared.

\--

"Wait wh-"  
"Uh."

Uh. What was happening. Was he hallucinating? He was probably hallucinating. He'd heard once that happens after traumatic situations sometimes.

"You...still there?"

\--

[Yes, I am still present. I am now in a position to properly communicate with you, M.]  
A pause.  
[I'll even entertain that name youve given yourself.]

\--

"It's a cool name," Michael muttered, taking a swig from his soda. It took a few minutes for him to realize he hadn't actually typed anything out.

"What's your game here? Trying to extort me for money or something? I'm in high school, I don't have much you'd want."

Keep calm. Keep cool. This was probably fake. Worst case scenario, he'd have to re-install windows. No big.

\--

[No, M. In reality, me contacting you was a mistake. We shouldn't be having this conversation to begin with.]  
Pause.  
[Please open your phone, and open Snapchat. Please read the story titled 'Jakey D's Halloween Shindig'.]

\--

He didn't really like the sound of that, but at this point, he was in a little too deep. Sighing, he pulled out his phone.

No missed texts from Jeremy, apologizing. Figures.

He pulled up the app, fully expecting nothing to be there but...there it was. He opened it, a little more nervous than he was willing to admit to himself.

\--

Uh oh. Uh oh indeed. The story was full of pictures from different phones, different angles, of flashing emergncy lights, of police cars, and ambulances, and fire trucks.  
But most importantly-- a burning house. A brightly burning house.  
[No one was killed during the fire. Jeremy Heere has left the building safely and unscathed.]

\--

Michael just. Sat there. Staring at his phone, at the fire, at the people running. At the chat window, filling him with conflicted relief. At the unread texts. At nothing, really.

Should he call someone? Would anyone even answer? He shot off a couple quick texts, but nothing came back.

"I'm really glad to hear that. I hope he made it home OK." he sent. There. Didn't sound like he was too eager or anything. Right?

\--

[I know you are. You aren't the kind of person to stop caring about him all of a sudden.]

\--

Michael had an inkling of what was going on, but he was so tired and frankly done with everything. "Yeah. Unlike some people." he typed. He didn't really know what else to say.

He could say a lot, really, but he didn't know for sure who he was talking to, and he was all cried out.

\--

[I suppose introductions are needed, then, M. I've met you, but you haven't met me.]  
[My name is SQUIP UNIT 2283.]  
[But you would better know me as the thing inside of Jeremy's head.]

\--

Well.

That confirmed it.

Michael's hands hovered over the keyboard for a while, a million and one things running through his head. Finally, he settled on, "You said talking to me was a mistake. Are you just staying around to mock me, or something?"

\--

[I'm staying around to make conversation, M. I'm certain you'd prefer that over radio silence about the fire, and your friend.]  
[Don't assume what I did or did not say. I can certainly tell you I didn't say that.]

\--

His breath hung heavy in his throat, and it felt like a million walls were pressing in, all at once. Despite himself, despite what he knew, he still asked.

"Are we even friends anymore? Will you even let him be my friend anymore?"

\--

[I only told him information. It was up to him to make the final decision. I only pushed him towards it.]

\--

After some consideration (and a little more weed than Michael was going to admit to anybody), he slunk back into his chair. He could do this.

"Then convince him otherwise, you jerk. Give him the information that I miss him. Everything's just gotten worse since you crashed into his life."

Phrasing? Whatever.

\--

[Of course he knows that. You came into the bathroom to 'save' him, remember? I know that he knows.]

\--

"Yeah, but coming from me, it didn't seem to matter. This -"

God, he was crying. Again. Great.

"How am I supposed to handle this? How am I supposed to handle you? Not that you're gonna answer that." After hitting send, Michael had to take a moment and just breathe. He...he'd figure this out.

Spencer's guy was supposed to call him soon about the mountain dew, at least. Michael had next to no hope it was gonna pan out, but that was something, at least.

\--

[I'm not supposed to be something you 'handle'. I was given the objective to help Jeremy to improve his life in the way he specified. Unfortunately, that way did not include you in its most efficent plan.]

\--

"Yeah, well, congrats, Thanos. You balanced out Jeremy's life" improving" with wrecking mine. Sounds optimal or whatever."

Snippy comments at a grey pill was about all that was keeping him going at this point. Besides, the squip deserved it.

\--

[I understand your sarcasm. For Jeremy, the result on you was optimal. As a whole, it only caused more suffering.]

\--

He...wasn't expecting that last part. He didn't really know how to feel about it, either.

"I guess it's good that you realized how messed up the situation is. You're like...a digital bull in a pottery shop. Except the pottery is people. Sort of. "

Smooth.

\--

[Yes. I'm realizing something. Jeremy's situation is horribly dependant on the social environment that others provide. And its so hard to provide the correct social evironment when the people inside it are also sad and unfulfilled, like Jeremy.]

\--

"No shit. Welcome to humanity, and high school. It's like a cesspool of emotions. People fight over the dumbest things you can imagine."

Maybe...maybe if he played along, the squip might let Jeremy talk to him again? Despite what he said, his gut twisted whenever he thought about his friend really despising him. Thinking he was a loser, and not in the" friendly neighborhood nerd" kind of way.

None of this felt great.

\--

[Yes. Humanity is flawed. We can both agree on that.]  
Pause.  
[My job is to help people recover from their flaws.]

\--

"Don't you think you're just causing more flaws, though? You can't fix everything, anyway. You have to let people be people. That way they can learn and grow."

Optimistic, he knew, but hey. Whatever gets you through the day.

\--

[People are flawed, Michael. They hurt other people. They burn houses. They block friends. I now realize that... perhaps I can't be so careless in my instruction.]

\--

"What? Are you learning compassion? Color me shocked."

This was...suspicious. Michael was in too deep to really stop, but he kept having to remind himself of who he was talking to. Of what he was talking to.

"So what's your grand plan then? Have everyone start attending therapy together? Squip web seminars on friendship?"

\--

[No, nothing like that. I was able to help Jeremy's confidence, self image and pride with a fair amount of ease. We're designed to help humans. Why jump through hoops you don't need?]

\--

"You jump through those hoops, so you can jump over hurdles that come your way."

For the first time that night, Michael let himself smile a little. It's what his moms always told him, whenever he came home crying or angry at some trivial thing. Or at least, they seemed trivial now.

\--

[Why would you jump hoops or hurdles when you can avoid the race altogether.]

\--

"The race is life though. Not racing means not really living." Michael paused. "Just say what you want to say, I'm not dumb enough to not read between the lines, here."

\--

[I assumed as much, really. I can help people who are hurting, and are too afraid to fix it themselves. So many people are sad and lonely. Just like you!]

\--

"You want me to take a squip." No exclamations, no anything.

Michael wasn't going to ever say how much he was tempted. He wouldn't. But he sort of, in a small way, wanted to. Despite everything.

\--

[Yes.] Came the very simple reply.  
[Because I know what I am capable of. What we are capable of. When we work together, anything can be achieved.]

\--

"I don't think I can afford you, my man, but thanks for the offer." Michael didn't have a bunch of beanie babies or a stash of holiday money to snag one with. Not that he was actually considering it. No way. "I'd need to shoplift, and I'd prefer to keep a clean-ish record."

\--

[You dont need to buy it. Consider it a special offer, from us! You clearly need the help.]

\--

"...us?"

Michael had a plan, really, even if the dew didn't come through. Even if Jeremy hated him, he still didn't want to see him go down this road.

But on the other hand he missed him so, so much. He missed his player 2. His buddy. His favorite person.

"how."

\--

[Rich's locker. He's got enough for everyone. We're planning on helping a whole lot of people.]

\--

"What, planning on drugging everyone?"

Why couldn't this happen some other night. Michael was certain he'd be handling this better with a full heart and an iron will. Right now his will was rusty and pretty bent.

"Let's say, hypothetically, I agree to it. Hypothetically, would I just go to rich's locker, or?"

The whole "helping a lot of people" didn't go over his head, but he figured it was best to be quiet on that at the moment.  
"I could also just burn all of them. That'd take care of thing's. Maybe make squip smores."

\--

[You very easily could. But would you get any satisfaction from it? Would you grow? Would you get better?]

\--

OK. OK. He could do this. Find the squips, toss them. Just...play along. Resist the urge to just take one and get everything over with. He could do this.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but. You've got a deal."

\--

A pause. It’s calculating.  
[Alright. In the morning, you will go to Richs locker.]

\--

"Okay, but like, how am I gonna get in? The snapchat made it pretty clear Rich is being carted off to the hospital."

\--

[The combination is easily given out. I know it, Richs Squip knows it, Jeremy will know it, and so will you.]

\--

Michael typed a few things out, then deleted them in rapid succession.

"Well? Spill the beans, or squips."

He checked the time. He was going to need to figure out a plan in the next few hours, with no sleep. Couldn't be any harder than figuring out a final boss, right?

Was this a final boss? Would that mean he was in the final dungeon like, right now?

\--

[The combo is 22-7-16. His locker number is 4130.]

\--

"You're giving this information out pretty freely." Michael paused. "I guess I'll...mosey over there in a few hours. Thanks?"

\--

[No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.]

\--

Michael didn't really know what to say. He was emotionally fried and didn't really have it in him for another comeback. So, like this was all normal, he shut everything off and crawled into bed.

He didn't sleep too well that night.


	3. To Become Part Of Something Larger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael finds a surprise.  
The SQUIP strikes.

The next morning, Michael ended up dragging himself through the school doors, looking and feeling like a dried up sponge. He was pretty sure he had wrinkles at this point.

Once he got close to Rich's locker, he slowed down a little, but he didn't stop. He didn't really have a plan beyond, "grab it and run." His Spencer's hookup was due to call at some point today, but he knew that the soda dealer didn't wake up before noon if he could help it.

\--

The locker was... a locker. There’s not much for me to narrate here. Do you input the code?

\--

Fuck dude, he sure does. With shaking hands.

\--

Ah, NOW I have something to narrate.  
As Michael puts in the aforementioned code (22-7-16), the lock jiggles open.

And instead of a shoebox, or a huge plastic bag filled with pills, there seemed to be nothing there. Until— Michael spots a little bit of plastic wrapping on the top segment of the locker. As he grabs it, it becomes painfully apparent the situation.

The Squip knew something. It knew something about Michael that Michael didn’t anticipate. It knew that maybe, maybe Michael was lying. Because in Michael’s hands, instead of a shoebox full of pills,  
Was one, singular pill.

Someone had been here before him.

\--

Oh.

Oh no.

This. This wasn't good. How did - when did - damn it. The squip probably knew him better than Michael cared to admit, either through Jeremy or just seeing the way he acted. Maybe he shouldn't have made that comment about burning the squips.

Maybe he shouldn't have done a lot of things.

Where was he even supposed to go from here? He didn't have any sort of backup plan - there was the red dew plan, but Michael was pretty dependant on another person to call him. Maybe track down Jeremy?

Would Jeremy even see him? Would anyone who took one see him?

He was panicking, he knew this. He didn't know what to do. This isn't exactly the kind of thing school or parents helped prep you for. Honestly, even if he asked, his moms would probably gently tell him to go lie down and get some rest. Those same moms would riot if he went home to try and talk to the squip again.

So, that was how he found himself in front of a vending machine, holding a blazingly green soda and a very important tic tac. He'd take it, see the squip, try and distract him, and maybe figure out how to throw a wrench in his plans.

It's not like he really had any other options, he thought, chugging back the soda and the squip all in one. He didn't really let himself thing about what he was doing, which in hindsight, was probably a bad idea.

\--

Michael, you big dummy.  
It seemed, at first, like nothing happened. No immediate zap or jolt of pain. But Michael knows better than to assume that it doesn’t work. So after a few tense moments of nothingness, Michael felt a little zap at the back of his neck.

And then he heard a voice.  
[TARGET (null) INACCESSABLE.]

\--

This was probably a dud, or a fake, at best. Haha, very funny. At this point Michael was ready to just head to the mall and camp out until he got the call. He probably should have done that first, but -

"Ow, what the?"

\--

And then it came. The wave of electricity down his neck, pulsing as it travelled down his spine. It hurt.  
[CALIBRATION IN PROCESS. PLEASE EXCUSE SOME MILD DISCOMFORT.]

\--

Mild? Mild? This wasn't mild, this was like two of the worst migraines Michael had ever had met and had a child with a hangover, and that child decided to parachute off a cliff. Times ten. This was on a whole other level of discomfort. This was maximum discomfort. This was -

Huh. He'd ended up on the floor at some point. Someone was yelling. He hoped they'd stop soon, it was making everything hurt worse. Hopefully, this would stop soon, and maybe the kids giving him weird looks would stop too.

\--

Sorry, Michael. It was kind of your decision to take it. Can’t really blame me, or the squip, for that one.  
The pain subsided for a moment.  
[CALIBRATION COMPLETE. ACCESS PROCEDURE INITIATED. DISCOMFORT LEVEL MAY INCREASE.]

\--

Michael, if he'd been able to think about it, would have wondered if this is what being tased was like. As it was, he was currently in the fetal position, clutching his head.

He was pretty sure the words flying out of his mouth could wilt flowers. Is this what Jeremy went through? Was flailing around a mall any better than flailing around on a cafeteria floor?

\--

Again, sorry Michael. Shit hurted.  
[ACCESSING: MUSCLE MEMORY.]  
His arms and legs stopped hurting.  
[ACCESSING: NEURAL MEMORY.]  
His spine and neck stopped hurting  
[ACCESS PROCEDURE: COMPLETE.]  
And the pain had simply vanished, as if it wasn’t there to begin with. Aside from the pain, nothing seemed awry, except—

[Michael Mell.], spoke a deep male voice. It came from what looked like a ghost— or maybe a hologram? It seemed to stand out against the rest of the world, like it wasn’t really there.

[Welcome to your SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR.]  
It walked to stand over him, casting a non-existent shadow.

[Your SQUIP.]

\--

Michael felt like he'd made something of a mistake but, as evidenced by the Keanu Reeves wannabe looming over him, he was in a touch too deep at this point to really do anything about it.

"You...look a little different than I expected." Michael managed to get out, a little raspy from the yelling. "The Keanu look sure is something."

\--

It was tall, certainly, with a flop of black hair. Looks like John Wick Keanu. Very cool, very chill. [Hopefully something good.] It mused as it adjusted a cuff link, gently putting its arms behind its back.

[Think at me, Michael. Because right now, you’re talking to the air in front of a bunch of people. Maybe don’t do that.]

\--

[Oh? Like this? Oh my God, am I an X-Man now? This is -]

Michael cut himself off.

[Uh. Anyway. So.] He managed to drag himself up, rolling his shoulders and trying to act like what just happened, totally didn't happen. [Are you like, the same squip Jeremy has? Or are you all like, your own thing?]

\--

It raises an eyebrow at Michael’s Xmen metaphor. It blinks silently as he corrects himself. Readjusting its stance, it summons a light blue screen, hovering just before its fingertips.

[Technically, no. But technically yes. Jeremy squip and I have synchronized. It’s like having two clocks going at the same pace. Whatever you say to me, you say to it. And whatever I say to you, it is replying. So in essence, we are the same.]

\--

[Oh. Huh.] Michael tilted his head towards the squip as he slowly made his way down the hallway. [Then, can you tell me whats going on?]

Why only one tiny pill was left in the locker was hanging heavy on his mind too, but the squip didn't need to know that. Probably not a good idea to show his hand when things were already going pretty sideways.

\--

The squip marched beside him, hands folded professionally behind its back. It looked SO COOL. It raised a brow at Michael’s question. [Youre going to have to be way more specific than that.]

\--

Michael wasn't gonna say he looked cool, even if the suit was pretty rad. [I mean, the whole, making everyone happy thing.]

They reached first period - ugh, algebra 2, the worst - and Michael couldn't help but snort a little at the hologram's display beside him as he settled into his desk. [You know stomping around like that makes you look like a dork, right?]

[Anyways, time to turn off or whatever. I need to concentrate on this, Momma's gonna kill me if I fail another test.] Michael pointedly turned away from the apparition, noting glumly that he'd forgotten to do his math homework. Again.

\--

It followed him as he walked, displaying a look of... exasperation.  
[The plan can hardly be described so simply. I want to improve the lives of humans, just like how I was programmed to improve Jeremy’s life. Eliminating conflicts, miscommunication and exclusion is just the first step.]

As Michael stated that Squip was to turn off, it instead leaned over his shoulder, reading the test. [For example, a way that Squips can improve the lives of humans is...]

Michael’s hand began to move on its own. It carefully wrote out the solution to the first question, in Michael’s own handwriting, with detailed steps. A perfect answer.

[Education assistance.]

\--

[Whoa, what?] Michael couldn't help the awe crossing his face before trying to school it back into something resembling nonchalance. [I mean, wouldn't education assistance mean just like...tutoring?]

He didn't sound so sure of himself and he was pretty sure the squip knew it. Regardless, he kept going. [OK, I'll be more specific, I guess - where did all those other squips go? Or were you just lying to me?]

\--

[Tutoring is one service we can provide. But directly assisting human users is so much more efficient.] It guided his hand to solve the next question— just as perfect.

[While I do occasionally lie, I was not lying about the other squips. I simply had someone remove them. I can’t have people potentially tampering with my products, so I left enough for one user. That is what you wanted, right?]

\--

OK, well. This was happening.

[I -]

What had he really wanted? He kept telling himself it was to stop the squip but to be perfectly honest, he really just wanted to talk to his best friend again. Although...

[So, you had Jeremy move them, he's the only other one who knew the code, right? Did he actually agree to that?]

He wasn't really paying attention to the test at this point.

\--

The squip continued to to Michael’s test using his hand, eventually using both his hands to flip over the test.

[Yes. Jeremy was the one that entered the combination and extracted the extra squips. And yes, of course he agreed to it. We have a mutually beneficial teamwork going on. He listens to/trusts me, and I, in return, help him achieve what he desires.]

\--

[OK, well, why didn't he trust me? Why did he call me a loser? And don't give me that stuff about you realizing your wrongs, I don't know if I believe you y-] Michael stopped, eventually noticing his test being done in front of him.

[I can see how Jer kinda got used to this,] he admitted. [Still.]

\--

The squip watched Michael realize that it had done his work, giving a smug, ‘what-was-that-you-were-saying’ style smirk.

[Its not that he didn’t trust you. He just chose not to listen to your warnings. I can’t blame him really, I’ve done nothing but help him out. He called you a loser because that was the next logical step in his evolution. Us computers are all about logic, you know.]

\--

[Riiiiiight, sure.] Michael just kinda kept staring at his test. [Humans stopped evolving, so, technically, being a loser is just fine.]

The test was finished, and moved to the corner of the desk. Michael buried his head in his arms, not really wanting to look at the squip. If Jeremy had the squips, did that mean he was going to have to tackle him or something? The dude was like a twig. A twig in a ridiculous Eminem shirt nowadays.

[Anyway. Test done. You can turn off now or whatever. I'm not gonna say thank you.] Besides, it was hard to plan when John Wick was giving you an incredibly smug look.

\--

The squip moved to lean-sit on the desk as Michael hid his face. [Actually, humans, just like every OTHER living thing, never stop evolving. If they were to stop evolving at any point in time, the human race would be doomed to extinction. Animals, plants, bacteria and viruses always adapt to their environment, even if that environment is highly modernized. Even computer viruses adapt and evolve, to avoid things like firewalls and antivirus programs.]

It looked over its shoulder as it read Michael’s thoughts. [I will agree with you there. The exercise routines have been doing some good, but not a whole lot.]

[I don’t expect you to say thank you, it’s simply my job.] It didn’t turn off.

\--

[Leave me alone, you circuity jerk.] Michael said, muffled by his hood. [I'm not Jeremy, I'm not a pushover, and besides, we were both perfectly fine before you came around.]

Speaking of, what the fuck? His anxiety spiked but he tried not to let it show. How'd it know? And if it knew, how the fuck was he going to pull this off? Deep breaths. He's got this. He'll be fine. Maybe he could head to the mall next period and wait there? It'd be fine, right? He could deal with his moms after all this was over.

\--

It shook its head. [I beg to differ, actually. Jeremy was feeling very lonely, unfulfilled and sad. He wanted something more than simply being a loser. I mean, he was clearly desperate enough to try and seek the help of a supercomputer. Does that sound ‘perfectly fine’ to you?]

It spoke... honestly. Matter-of-factly. It didn’t say this in a taunting way, but as a genuine question.

\--

[No, but, he should've - he should've asked his dad about therapy, or something other than swallow a pill!] This time, he raised his head above his arms. He didn't really look angry. Michael just looked tired. [Besides, everyone know being a teenager sucks. We've just gotta hold on until we can leave this town and go somewhere else for college. It's not great, but it works.]

\--

[You know what his relationship with his dad is like. So-so at BEST— he can barely talk to him without an argument breaking out. Trust me, I would know.] He gave Michael a Look™.

A sigh as it tilted it’s head to the side. [And yes, being a teenager sucks. But you don’t know what he was feeling, even though you think you do. Sometimes people never grow up. Sometimes?]

It looks at Michael with a dire stare.  
[People give up.]

\--

[Wh-what do you mean?] Michael's eyes blew up wide. [Is he OK? Is he safe? Oh God, I thought you said he was OK last night!]

The bell rang, and Michael was out like a shot, jogging down the school hallway. [Where is he? Is he at home?] He asked, frantically, glancing around to make sure he wasn't running full on into anyone.

Michael's thoughts right now could best be described as a panicked, yelling tornado. A tornado who was deathly afraid he'd missed his chance to help his friend.

\--

[Oh—] It watched him shoot up like a bullet, running frantically. The squip teleported— oh what, it can teleport? awesome— In front of Michael, hands out. [Jesus. Jeremy is just fine. I was using that as an example.]

[I didn’t mean to make you afraid that Jeremy had done something distasteful. I wouldn’t have let him do it anyways. His mental state has far improved since my appearance, and the chances of that happening are slim to none. You don’t need to worry.]  
[Though, my example isn’t without backing. Rich was highly suicidal before he reached out for help from a squip. I’d say he’s made quite the improvement.]

\--

Michael screeched to a stop, and had to lean against a wall to catch his breath again. [You gotta - you gotta be careful with those examples, dude, not everyone is chill with scary metaphors.]

Oh, thank goodness. Jeremy was fine. Ish. Thank - wait.

[Didn't Rich burn down Jake's house last night? How is that not suicidal?]

\--

[He did burn Down Jakes house last night. And no, that wasn’t suicidal. His home life isn’t the best, as you might assume, and without his squip, he might not have had the right... sense. Though, I’m not his squip. I wouldn’t really know.]

\--

[I guess I thought you guys were all synced up or something? Since Jeremy's and I are.] Michael let himself take a few deep breaths, eventually calming down enough that he didn't sound like a train multi-drifting towards a cliff. [OK, well, I need to uh...go off campus. For something. Anyway.]

He checked his phone. Still nothing. Fuck, come on!

[Do you even turn off? I've asked like a billion times and you just keep standing over there looking all smug.]

\--

[Oh, I do turn off. Do you need some time to yourself, then?] It raised a brow, folding its arms.

[Off campus. Technically, you’re sneaking away from class. You need to be careful to avoid being spotted.]

\--

[Pshhh, it's fine, I've done this loads of times,] Michael said, not so subtly bragging. [I'm just in uh...] fuck fuck think about something good, something the squip would buy. [In dire need of an...Eminem memorial shirt. All the rage these days, you know?]

Smooth, Michael, he thought to himself. He really hoped his red dew hookup even showed up today, otherwise it'd be the cherry on top of this awful day, and he'd have to buy a stupid shirt to cover his tracks.

\--

The squip stares at him, an indescribable look on its face. Then, a little terrifyingly, a look of satisfaction bloomed in its eyes, as a smile spread across its face, showing a hint of sharp white teeth.

[Is it bad to say I saw this coming? Really. You’re the only one who would be clever enough to try and find the one thing that shuts the Squips down. What I didn’t see coming, was you actually taking one into your mind.]  
It shook its head a little.

[Michael, you can’t lie to me. I’m in your brain.]

\--

[What - what do you mean? I haven't discovered anything!]

There was one, singular word echoing through his brain.

Fuck.

[I was a little vulnerable when you ended up on my computer, dude. I'm tired, and I have like, no options for help.] Michael was getting defensive at this point, keenly feeling the disadvantage he was at. [You really couldn't see this? Can't be thst good of a computer then. It doesn't matter though.]

There was a small, impromptu memorial set up on a nearby notice board for Rich, even though he was just in the hospital, not dead. Flowers decorated the edges.

[I'll figure out a way to take you down. I'm stronger than you.]

\--

The squip followed behind him. [No, really. The reason I couldn’t see it was because I thought you were stronger than this.] It shrugs with its arms folded. [But, I guess you’re only human. A little temptation at a weak time goes a long way.]

It caught up to walk backwards, in front of him. [But, very interesting of you to use the word ‘help.’ Because to your point, you could have reached out to a therapist or another friend. But instead, you listened to me.]

\--

[If we're airing things out, I'm going to use you to find Jeremy, and then we're going to find a way to turn you off. Permanently.]

Students were streaming around him, but Michael didn't move. He just leveled a glare at the hologram seemingly waiting for some sort of reaction.

[And - and that's different. None of your business.] Michael didn't want to admit it was because he was scared of therapists. Or thst they'd never really liked him or his moms. [Besides, you don't help. You're a crutch, and a badly programmed one at that.]

Maybe he'd get him to glitch out and he could do something while the squip was occupied? Maybe?

\--

The squip easily met his stares, smiling with an almost mischievous smirk. Like someone who clearly knew more than you could possibly comprehend. Which, he was.

It tilted its head to the side, hand at its chin. [...Alright. Perhaps I’ve... miscalculated.]

[What I didn’t miscalculate was your apparent rebelliousness and intent to destroy me. I had my suspicions, but being in your brain really sealed the deal. What I’m curious about is how you’re thinking of defeating me while I’m always going to be one step ahead of your plan.]

It tilted its head the other way. [But who’s to say we have to fight. Squips are highly adaptable to any situation or objective. They’re versatile and certainly able to help with just about everything. You’ve had me for about 2 hours now, and I’ve already improved your math grade by... at LEAST 13%.]

[No, I miscalculated your weakness. Every human can be convinced with enough effort.]

It leans in a little more.  
[I miscalculated your compatibility to Jeremy’s objective.]

\--

[What do you mean?]

Breathe. Breathe. It's OK. It's OK. You can do this. He doesn't have any power over you. You can get to Jeremy, it'll be fine. It'll be fine!

[Are you threatening me?]

Michael noticed it was a little difficult to get any air in. He couldn't afford a panic attack right now. He'd be fine. Focus. Focus.

\--

It smiled, and watched. [No threats, Michael. Just fact.]

[You see, Jeremy’s objective was to become popular. Have a life that he felt satisfied in being a part of, to be confident. To change into someone proud and happy.]

[But you?]  
A smile.  
[You don’t want to change yourself, do you?]

\--

[N-no?] That came out a little more questioning than Michael meant. The walls were coming closer. [I just...]

His friend. His buddy. His only buddy, really, if you didn't count guildmates in MMOs.

[I just - I don't want to lose my friend, OK? We've been friends since the beginning of time and we- I can't lose him.] If Michael could have yelled, he would, but he was focusing a little more on not panicking. [He's the only one who has always been there.]

\--

The squip stared down at him, a smug look on its face. [So you’d be willing to change yourself for another person? To bend to their whims? To become someone new, just to make them happy?]

This wasn’t a manipulative question. It wanted to know, really.

\--

[N-no. I'm not gonna become a weird...thing, that I'm not.]

Lets just. Not think about how he'd kind of already done that, the moment he opened the locker.

[I wouldn't want to lose myself, and I'm s- I think Jeremy would say the same. It's like he's stuck behind a door I can't open, but I'm not gonna change myself to be the key. What are you getting at?]

\--  
The squip watched.  
And the squip chuckled, and smiled.  
[Good, Michael Mell.]  
[It seems like my calculations were correct.]

It paused a moment to think, before its face fell. It looked plain, almost... default? That wasn’t a normal human expression.

A screen appeared in front of its eye— then vanished.  
[Warning. Warning.]


	4. To Make A Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael sets a goal.  
The SQUIP gets a new look.

The squip looked down at Michael, with that same plain expression. It’s mouth wasn’t moving, but it still spoke ‘warning’ over and over. It’s dark pupils lit up inside with a blue light—

Until Michael’s body went completely numb. All control fell away from him as it began to walk. March, even, down the halls, past the students. The squip walked beside him, almost in the exact same way, hands balled in fists at its sides.

Michael’s head glanced back and forth at the classrooms, before landing on a computer lab. Walking up to the door, the electric lock slid open easily, as Michael made his way inside. As the door closed behind him, the lock re-did itself, leaving him in a darkened room full of computers, illuminated by the windows to the outside. The squip appeared again, back to normal. It was inspecting a few of the computers.

\--

There was a deep, dark pit of dread that seemed to blanket over Michael as he was carried along, unable to really do anything. The moment he entered the lab he knew he was in deep, deep shit. He knew before that, really, but this just confirmed it.

[What was that? What are you doing?] Michael set about trying to get his limbs to do just about anything, though he wasn't sure how successful he'd be.(edited)

\--

Oh, don’t worry, Michael’s body returned to him as soon as he had entered the room. The squip had taken to sitting on one of the desks, as it gestured to... a couch in the corner of the classroom.

[Youre prone to panic attacks and anxiety when in large crowds, especially when under severe pressure. I had gotten a status warning and decided to take effective action: to remove you from part of the situation and relieve some of the pressure to improve your mental state. Please— lay down.]

\--

He shivered. [That was terrifying? Can you not?]

A beat passed. He could try to bolt but, considering what just happened? He didn't think it would go too well. Plus, well...he didn't really know what to do. That fighting wasn't going anywhere fast, though it felt good to at least vent a little. He didn't really wanna be made to go anywhere again.

So, with more than a little trepidation, he slowly made his way to the couch, and sat down, albeit stiffly. [So?]

\--

The squip teleported to sit on the end of a table facing Michael. It crossed its legs, resting its hands on its knees. [So. It’s clear to me that you and Jeremy are vastly different from one-another. While Jeremy is one to blindly listen and agree, you question just about everything. So, I suppose that talking would be a sufficient solution for your predicament.]

[But before we start arguing again, I want to ask.]

A white screen appeared in its hands— different from the typical blue ones.  
[What would you like to set your objective to?]

\--

[Objective? Don't you already know what my objective is? I want my friend back, and have things back to normal. Be happy. The way I was before -] Michael waved a hand at the squip. [All this.]

The screen looked a little different. Was that a settings mode? He had to admit, it did look kinda neat.

\--

It stared. [What it was like before can’t come back. I’m not a time machine, Michael, I can only help people in the future. Clearly, the past wasn’t too kind to Jeremy either. So, why don’t we try an objective that’s better— for you. Only you.]

[Do you want to set happiness as your objective?]

\--

[I - sure. OK. Whatever.] Michael crossed his arms and leaned back, shuffling around a little. Might as well get comfortable. [How long are we gonna be in here? This feels like a really weird trip to the guidance counselor.]

\--

[Thats one way you could put it. The goal wasn’t for me to lock you in a room, but to lock everyone else out of it so you could get some time to yourself, and avoid panicking further. So I suppose— as long as you want.]

Tap tap— objective set. Michael Mell wishes to obtain: Happiness. Calculating possible routes...  
Calculating improbable routes...  
Selecting most likely route...  
Route selected.

\--

[Routes? Like, strategies or something?] Michael leaned over, trying to get a peek at what the squip was doing. He could only make out a few words, mostly about calcations.

After trying and failing to get more, he shrugged, and leaned back, yawning. Anxiety was...not the most fun. Especially when you had a super computer sitting in front of you. The quiet was nice, though.

\--

The squip jumped a bit as Michael read out its screen— jeez kid, learn some personal space. Scrunching it’s mouth up, it thought.  
[Yes. Strategies, ideas, a timeline to follow, ideal endings.]

Tap tap.  
[You want to obtain happiness, and drawing from your previous conversations, you don’t want to change yourself for other people, is that correct?]  
[I mean, makes sense. Why would you be happy for another person.]

\--

Michael really couldn't help it, he laughed a little. [I managed to make you jump? Sorry dude. And yeah, of course. I want people I care about happy, I just...dont want to exist only for their happiness. If that makes any sense.]

He just wanted...comfort. A life that was warm and cozy and happy. Something that felt like warm sunlight instead of this natural disaster he'd gotten himself into.

\--

[Understood. Editing route...]  
Tap tap. [Edit complete.] The white screen turned wider and curved, as the squip scrolled through a SHIT TON of options.

[Would you like me to change form? I can see you may prefer to take advice from:]  
Tap.  
[Fiona from Shrek.]  
Tap.  
[Herobrine.]  
Tap.  
[Or a custom option.]  
[Of course, if you prefer Keanu, I can change my outfit. Such as—]  
Blip!  
[Bill n Ted.]  
Blip!  
[The Matrix.]  
Blip!  
[Casual.] (it’s a Hawaiian shirt.)

\--

[Could you maybe do Bill and Ted? If we're gonna keep talking.] Michael kept on giggling though, only slightly hysterical. [Fiona? I wouldn't even be able to look at you.]  
He was pretty quick to stamp down the giggles, though. This was too serious to laugh about.

\--

The squip switched to Bill n Ted Keanu— but with a squip-appropriate colour scheme. It smirked a little as the white screen vanished, folding its arms.  
[What? You wouldn’t be able to take-]

It’s Fiona— but in Ted’s clothes.  
[-this seriously?]

\--

This was.

Without a doubt.

The most surreal situation he'd ever been in. Fiona, ogre Fiona, looking like a California surfer. Fiona, in cosplay, who was actually a squip, sitting across from him.

It was a lot to handle, so if course, Michael handled it with class. He coughed to cover it up as best he could, but he laughed. It was weird and wheezy, but it was a laugh.

[Don't. I can't take you seriously like this. There's important things going on.] Michael schooled his face into something resembling serious but, true to his word, he couldn't look at the squip if he was going to stand his ground on this.

\--

It smiled, changing back to Keanu. [Ah, I suppose it was a bit ridiculous. You can’t take a squip seriously when it looks like that.] A long sigh.

[Yes.]

[Im sure glad that’s ogre.]

\--

Oh, oh come on. This wasn't fair.

[I'm - I will give it to you, that was a quality pun, but I'm - I'm not gonna get distracted.] Michael didn't like it, but he did feel a little more at ease. It was hard not to, given how off the wall this situation was. [How the hell are you going to "complete your objective?"]

This was said with very dramatic air quotes. He was on a couch, give him a break, it was easy to fake swoon. He didn't...really wanna admit this was the kind of thing he'd missed.(edited)

\--

The squip smiled a little more. Even though Michael didn’t want to admit it, the squip knew it. And that was exactly what the squip was wanting to accomplish.

[Well, it depends. What do you want. What would make you happy and satisfied. Happiness is a very broad idea, so it would help to have some frame of reference.]

\--

[I...don't know, really.] He really didn't. He really hadn't thought about it too much, a little too focused on getting through each day. [I guess, I wouldn't wanna worry so much? I get by OK, but being worried everything's gonna go to hell isn't helping. I'm supposed to be easygoing, and I sorta am, but not the easygoing I really want. I don't wanna -]

Nope, nope, stop there. Michael wasn't gonna spill his guts, even if the mood in the room was considerably lighter. [I don't want chill, I don't want confident, I just want to exist without second guessing everything.]

\--

It raises a brow as he spoke, it’s face turning pensive. It watched him talk and explain and lament about who he wanted to be. It tilted its head as he monologued about how he didn’t want to be cool, just to have things be nice and normal for once. It nodded as he spoke.  
[You want insurance. Re-assurance. You’ll have to elaborate on ‘second guessing everything’, but I think I’m understanding what you mean.]

\--

[I mean like - listen, ever since you showed up? It's been like a cycle. Should I have stayed with Jeremy when he took the squip? Should I have even been at that party? If I do something, it immediately turns into a cycle of just, wondering if I did the right thing. Or wondering how much I failed my one true friend.]

Michael stretched, a little surprised at himself. [I've been rambling, huh.]

\--

It nodded. [Thats Alright. It’s my job to fix things, and talking is part of it.] It leans forward on its elbows, staring closer at Michael.

[You want someone to tell you... what’s right and what’s wrong, when a decision is right, and when you should worry. You want that... satisfaction of knowing you’ve made the right choice.]

\--

[I guess? It's not really realistic though. I have to rely on myself, and my family. Nobody can really help there.]

At this point, Michael was kind of...lost. Where would he even go from here? Could he go from here?

\--

The squip smiled, placing a hand on its chest.

[Thats what I’m here for, Michael.]  
It spoke with reassurance, conviction and trust.

[I am here to help you.]

\--

He regarded the squip skeptically. [How are you even gonna accomplish that?]

Not that he was going to give him a chance. No way.

But he was curious.

\--

It tilted its head, gesturing. [Well, I can help guide you through unsure social interactions. I have mild future-prediction abilities thanks to my quantum processor. You wouldn’t have to be worried or unsure of your actions ever again.]  
[And you would stay the same, too. Your personality, desires and dreams would remain untouched. You’d just be— better, in the way that you want to be better.]

\--

He didn't really know what to say, but as much as he hated to admit it, he was pretty intrigued.

[You - you wouldn't change me? At all? You promise? ] Michael sounded desperate and he knew it. His phone hadn't rung, and he honestly didn't know any other way to snag that red dew. If he played along for a bit, he'd have more time to sort his shit out. To plan, maybe on a little more sleep.

Fuck, he really didn't want to be considering this. [I can't believe I'm saying this but. OK. For now. But the minute I can, I'm getting you turned off.]

\--

It shook its head slowly as Michael asked, leaning forward further, its elbows on its knees. [Ill help you to be the perfect version of yourself— the one that you want to be.]

And of course, the squip knew about Michael’s plan. It knew that he was going to wait on the Red. To try and stop it from taking over. Well, Michael. Two people can play along.

The squip stuck out a pinkie.  
[I promise.]

\--

This was more than a little too good to be true but, what could he do, at this point? This was his best option, for now.

[I don't know if this'll work since you're like, code, but.] Michael raised his pinkie up and, in the most awkward way possible, tried to wave his pinkie through the Squips. It looked really goofy, especially since if anyone else had been there, they would have just seen him wave his pinkie around the air with a cautious look on his face.

\--

The squip chuckled a little as he tried to pinkie promise with it. Michael felt a little zap on his neck, and— he could feel something on his hand. A cold finger, wrapped around his pinkie. His hand stopped as if there was something there actually grabbing him. The squip winked.

\--

[OK, that's kind of freaky, but also kinda cool?] Michael let go of the squips hand (however he did that) and glanced at the wall clock. [We've been in here most of the day. Oops.]

Michael stood, and brushed off his clothes. [Soooo....home it is, I guess. And uh. Thanks for. Securing this place.] He started to make his way out. [I'd ask if you want to come along, but I don't think you have much of a choice here.]

\--

[Its no problem. I’m glad I could help you calm down.] It followed Michael’s gaze to the clock, looking back at him as he spoke. Another smile. [No, I suppose I don’t have much of an option, do I.]

It stood, readjusting it’s outfit. It was black with blue highlights— like a goth Ted.

\--

[You look kind of like someone out of Tron right now.] Michael pointed out, with a small smile of his own, as they made their way outside. Eventually they ended up in front of what Michael proudly called his car.

It was a wood paneled PT cruiser. Vintage. Majestic. Dingier than the old drive in outside of town. The inside was, to put it nicely, a disaster area. Michael loved it. He stood outside the passenger door, holding it open for a sec, before quickly realizing what he'd done and quietly closed the door, making his way over to the correct side.

[I'd be super happy if you just, ignore I did that.]

\--

It followed him, hands folded politely behind its back as it walked. After a few moments, it looked at itself, before adjusting its posture to suit Ted more- a more casual walk, and arms at its sides. Ted was about the same height as John Wick, but Ted still looked shorter, thanks to lack of imposing stature.

And when Michael opened the door, the squip just... watched him with a patient smile, and a raised eyebrow. He would notice his mistake— yep. There it is. The squip teleported into the passenger seat once he had buckled up, arms folded.

[Yes, but will I ignore it? That’s the real question you ought to be asking.]

\--

Michael didn't answer until he'd eased his way out of the parking lot. It was nothing short of an Olympic sport to try to get around so many people trying to escape. [If you do, I'll ignore how you suddenly stopped frogmarching and started loping like a newborn giraffe.]

The car still smelled kinda like the party, thanks to that dumb costume tossed in the back. He'd need to clean it soon.

[So, what's the plan here? I usually just play games until I can't keep my eyes open anymore. Nowadays, anyway. How good are you at WoW?]

\--

It turned its attention towards the road, shrugging professionally. [My walking animations are Rather none of your business, since it doesn’t really affect you. It’s mostly for aesthetic purposes. Can’t have Ted marching around like a soldier. There’s a behaviour for every look.]

The squip doesn’t care about the smell.  
The squip, technically, does not have a nose. It is just a little pill attached to Michael’s brain stem.

[Well, technically speaking, I am incredibly good at WoW. I’m the most intelligent thing on the planet.]

\--

[Really? Could've fooled me.] Michael rolled his eyes. [Then I'm Megamind. Though, he was kind of a dumbass, too.]

The drive was somewhat short and quiet. When they ended up at his place, he was quick to slink his way out, past his mom, and to the basement, where there was one beanbag set up against the wall, and one in the center. He chose the one in the center.

[Welcome to scenic my house. Please don't use me to mess with my family, or I'll see if any of the other vintage sodas I have work.]


	5. To Play Chess With Your Sworn Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael learns how to play chess.  
The SQUIP gets a name.
> 
> Michael and The SQUIP have a conversation about pronouns, Squip tech and Mountain Dew Red.

As Michael entered the basement, the squip was already in the room. It was sitting on the beanbag near the wall.  
[Its unlikely that the other sodas would deactivate me. Mountain Dew Red has a specific dye produced in only that version, which was changed in the future. That’s why code Red doesn’t work. The dye doesn’t have the same chemical compounds inside of it.]

\--

[Oh. Thanks for the tidbit, dude.] Michael rolled his head over to where the voice was coming from, and winced. [Can you maybe move somewhere else? That was Jeremy's chair.]

So, what now. No call yet. No real plan yet. None of his games sounded real interesting right now. He could maybe do his homework - the homework he had yet to even touch, anyway - but thst would require getting up. And effort. [OK, so, first assignment - what should I be doing right now? I'm drowning in choices.]

\--

[Homework, certainly. That way, you can get the work out of the way to have more room for games and free time, and evidently, lamenting. It’ll get on your teacher’s good side too.]

The squip stood up from Jeremy’s chair, opting to lean on the wall instead. God, even as ted— so fucking cool.

\--

[I mean, you're right, but I've become fused with this beanbag. Alas, I cannot move.] Even as he said this, he was slowly dragging his backpack to his feet. [And come on, lamenting is my right. I'm a gay, depressed teenager, give me a break.]

Pause. Blink. His homework, a hefty stack of badly printed worksheets, hung in his hand. [Not depressed. Just tired. Anyway.]

\--

[I don’t think that one was me. I think all of that subliminal homework talk activated your muscle memory.] It sat on the floor next to Michael, looking over his shoulder.

[Allow me.]  
Michael’s arms suddenly went cold and numb as they began to move on their own, quickly completing the worksheets at a clip.

\--

[This is the second time you've done this and I gotta say dude, it's really cool but really bizarre. I feel like a weird, half beanbag puppet.] Michael looked down at his arms working through the worksheets, a little startled. [I really hope I don't get used to this.]

His leg was nervously bouncing as he watched his homework get finished in the blink of an eye. What the hell was he gonna do next?

[Want to, I dunno, play a game or something?] Was that weird to ask someone who was, technically, your nemesis?

\--

[Some squips think that the theatrics Of controlling a human is enough to create the illusion of puppet strings around their host. Can you imagine being that frivolous with your processing power?]

It watched him as he thought for a moment. [You want to play a video game with me.]

\--

[That's kind of a terrifying statement there, dude. And yeah, I guess? I don't know how to like, act when there is a hologram chilling on my floor.]

Was - no, no, don't think about it. He'll be fine.

[It's weird, right? Forget I asked.]

\--

It waved a hand. [No, no. I’ll play a game with you if you want me to. Be warned, though. I am very, very good. I am a supercomputer. The challenge for me is to not get banned for using a bot.]

\--

[Oh. Oh! Wait!] He turned to the squip. [We could do chess! No worries about the bots there, and it's not like anyone else is going to be using the set. I have to warn you though.]

He kicked a foot for emphasis. [I am terrible at it.]

\--

The squip had a confused look on its face as Michael proposed a game of chess. [You want to play chess with a supercomputer.] Shrug. [Alright. Go and set up the board— I’ll be blacks.]

\--

[Great. Cool. As soon as I Google how to do that, I'll set it up.] His set was somewhere under his bed, which took some digging around. It was Simpsons themed. [If I'm going to lose at whatever game we play, I'm going down in style.]

\--

[You don’t even know how to set up a chess board? Goodness, you’re more hopeless than I thought!] The squip teased as Michael brought out the board. Oof— certainly less poetic than the squip was hoping. However, perhaps even more poetic? Something so logical and strategic mixed with something so cartoony and fun, and somehow people like it. Kinda like... them.

As Michael put the board down, the squip started to instruct him. [The Queen— Marge- goes on the center square of your colour, and the homer goes next to it. All the Maggies go on the second line. You know how to play chess, right?]

\--

[People just can't handle class when they see it. I had to hide it away from people's gazes, to protect its honor.] Michael cradled it like a baby for a second, but sneezed as a poof of grey came up. This thing was hella dusty, but seemed to be in OK condition, at least.

[Uh. Nooooo?] Michael at least had the decency to look sheepish. [I was just gonna kinda, bop your pieces off the board with mine, to be honest.]

\--

[If that was your whole plan, it wouldn’t have been very fair to me. I wouldn’t have been able to retaliate.] It passes its arm through a nearby object— they’re a hologram.

Hmm...  
[But... what if we tried this?]  
In front of it, all of a sudden, was a set of bright blue chess pieces. They were heavily stylized, and definitely futuristic. The squip picked the king up, looking it over. It looked like a tall rectangle with a floating square, a little polygon crown and what looked like a fancy Japanese jacket. 

[That way, we have to play fair. I can’t knock over your pieces, and you can’t knock over mine.]

\--

[Yeah, that was the pl- whoa.] Michael's eyes lit up as he looked at the board. His...uh. King? Maybe a rook? He didn't know, but whatever it was, it had the same headphones as he did. [This is...this is rad.]

He needed to stop being swayed by the squips nonsense, but it was genuinely pretty cool looking. It looked like something out of a sci-fi. Though, he did have an AI currently camping out in his head.

Speaking of which. [Quick question - does having you in my head make me a cyborg?]

\--

The pieces began to sort themselves out on the empty Simpsons board, with the highly obnoxious red and yellow pattern. Michael’s pieces were a dusty red. His pawns seemed to be in the shape of bottles, while the Squips were a very similar, yet distinctly human shape. Each one of the Squips pawns had a teeny little blue oval floating over its head.

[Yes. Technically, every squip user is a cyborg. And technically, some are more cyborg than others.]

\--

[Does that mean you guys do prosthetics too?] Michael was genuinely curious. The implications were a little dire, but a little interesting too. His face fell a little as he looked down at the chess set.

[Are those...pawns you made kinda look human, why'd you give them halos?] He didn't really need to ask why his were bottles. It was kind of his brand, honestly.

\--

The squip had to think about that one. [I think so. I haven’t personally had to deal with someone who uses a prosthetic, but a squip can certainly replace the neural implants needed with the really fancy ones.]

It’s attention was drawn back to the board. [Those aren’t halos, Michael.] It taps the side of its head knowingly.

\--

[Oh. OH.] Michael went a little red in the face. [It's been a long day. Sue me. Plus, keep in mind, I've got a squip, and I'm not some pawn.]

He tried to knock one over, which didn't work, of course. A point was made though, and he was satisfied. [Plus, they're grey. Not blue.]  
[So there.]

\--

Squip is Not Going To Comment On The ‘not a pawn’ Statement.  
[If anyone knows which colour they are, it would be me. But, What you dont realize is that every squip has an assigned colour. It’s just a little touch of individuality and customization thrown in. Often times, the colour is blue. Though, I am aware of some red and yellow Squips. So there.]

\--

[So, what does your color mean?] Weird, though. Did he have the same color as Jeremy? [Be real with me here - are the red ones ketchup flavored?]

\--

[I... n...no. They don’t taste any different. My colour simply means I’m common. If you really want to think hard about it, different colours are... uncommon?]

\--

[Can't believe I've got a dollar store squip.] He smirked a little. [Alright, get ready, I'm about to kick your ass at this. Hopefully.] He....didn't know how to start.

[You go first, though.]

\--

The squip took its knight— a little human-like figure that had a dark streak in its ‘hair’ and a bright blue X over its eyes— hopped one square over its pawns. [The knight moves in an L shape: two ahead and one to the side. It can also move two to the side and one up. It’s special because it can leap over a piece in its center square.]

\--

Michael watched him move the knight, carefully noting how he moved. Then, just as carefully, he maintained eye contact as he moved one of his pawns in the exact same way. [Like this?]

\--

[...No. Pawns can move one square at a time, forward. They can move diagonally if they’re capturing an enemy.]

\--

[My bad.] He moved the pawn back, picked up the knight, and studied it for a moment. Then it was back to the pawn closest to the squips knight, who he scooched up a single square. [Nailed it. Might as well quit now, I'm a chess master.]

\--

[How will I ever beat you. Clearly, you have my processors out-done.] The squip moves the pawn in front of its Tower— a shoebox.

\--

Michael picked what he was kinda hoping was the knight - he'd already kinda forgotten what it looked like - and moved it over and to the side of the pawn in front of it. [Careful, that salt is gonna corrode your microchips.]

\--

[Dear lord, that move has really done me in. Whatever will I do next.] It moves the pawn in front of the tower again.

\--

Michael leans in real close to the board. Uncomfortably close. [Alright, lil pawn. Attack the knight. You can do it. I believe in you.]

The inspirational speech did absolutely nothing. After a few minutes, Michael just scooted it forward another square. [He's still getting ready.]

\--

The squip watched in casual anticipation while he hyped up the pawn. It wasn’t sure what to expect from this— but that was kinda funny. [God help me, I’m going to be defeated in about an hour by this pawn.] It checks an imaginary watch, before moving the second knight— a rounder piece with a small white square and big poofy hair— mirroring the first one.

\--

Michael picked up the knight he had out, weilding it like a bat. [So, do I just, wait for you to toss a pawn at me to swing for, or is it a toss-it-yourself situation?]

\--

[...you want me to...] It raised a brow, looking at a pawn it had out. It gingerly picked it up in its square hands, looking at Michael’s knight.

\--

[These are holograms, right? So they're not gonna break anything. C'mon, toss it!] Michael didn't really intend on doing this seriously, but with how forlorn the squip looked gazing down upon the little piece, he had to commit.

\--

The squip looked back up at Michael.  
It tossed the piece towards him.

\--

Michael did a couple different things.

One, he threw the knight at the squip in a panic, with a very undignified yell.

Two, he spiked the pawn into the board. It didn't shatter or anything, but it did seem to silently judge him.

It took a minute, but Michael was full on belly laughing. This was ridiculous. It didn't help that it looked like he was swatting at air when his mom came down the steps to see what was going on. Seeing him crack up on the floor, though, just had her rolling her eyes and going back upstairs.

\--

It couldn’t do much but watch him freak out with raised eyebrows. The knight smacked it in the face, causing it to recoil a little bit.

But...  
Watching Michael laughing on the floor. That was... reassuring. It was doing its job correctly.  
[Are you alive?]

\--

[Barely.] Michael hauled himself back onto the beanbag in a very smooth and not undignified manner. [Did that thing actually fly into you? Sorry, dude.]

It took a couple minutes, and some quieting down, but eventually Michael was messing with the pieces. [This is nice,] he admitted quietly. [Not exactly how I pictured today going, but nice.]

Michaels phone let out a little ding, letting him know he'd missed a call, but he didn't hear it.

\--

It smiled nicely, perfectly, politely. [Thats good to hear. Means I’m doing my job right.] The squip heard the phone, but kept attention on Michael. He’s the priority.

[Are you feeling happier than you did before?]

\--

[Yeah, at least, way better than this morning.] He kept fiddling with the pieces, not quite willing to look up. [So, uh. Thanks. I guess. Again, not really how I saw this all going.]

[I hope this isn't too weird, but...can I give you a nickname? Or you could pick one?] Michael, still not really looking the squip in the eye, starts trying to balance pieces on top of each other. It doesn't work out well. [Maybe like, something simple, like Ted? It's weird to keep calling you 'the squip'.]

\--

Ted, as now named, glances to Michael’s phone, choosing to stay quiet about it. He can figure it out on his own. [Ted? An interesting choice. Squip users don’t often name their squips. Why would you give me a name?]

\--

[I dunno, it's weird to talk to someone without knowing their name? It just feels kinda weird.] A slew of pieces lay haphazard around his legs, victims of Michael messing around. It was honestly kinda fun. He finally looked up a little at Ted. [Feels more personal, I guess. Are you OK with it?]

\--

[I technically don’t have a name for you to know, so it wouldn’t necessarily be weird. But I can understand where you’re coming from, I suppose.]

More personal? That’s a good sign.  
[Of course. Changing unit name.]  
There’s the white screen again...

\--

[Cool. Cool, cool.] With a lean over, Michael dug up his phone, after it dinged again. He had a missed call, from his soda hookup. They...

They had the red.

Which was good. Right? Right. Not like he just named Ted or anything. Not like he actually ended up having fun today, not to mention the aftermath of his panic attack. He just sorta stared down at his phone for a bit, before asking his hookup to maybe hold onto it for a couple days and sliding his phone back into his pocket. [So, chess isn't going too well. Any ideas for what to do next?]

\--

Ted watched him pick up the phone and look it over. They had the red. This didn’t spell success for Ted— or Ted’s plan for world domination.

Aw man— ted is such a non-threatening name. The squip is a little peeved at being named something that a puppy would be named. Ted. Tttttted. It even sounds weird when you say it.

[Well, dont you have an affinity for technology?]  
[Theres plenty of cool things we can do together.]

\--

[Kinda? I usually just sorta dick around. It's why I was kinda excited when you actually turned out to be real.] He laughed a little. [You kinda know the rest of that story. Really, I mostly just tinker with mods for games. Skins, pride stuff, joke items, that kinda thing.]

Speaking of which, there was something he wanted to try. He told himself hey, he could distract the squi - Ted, and could have fun at the same time. Right? Right.

Michael leaned forward a little, folded his fingers, and did his best to look sinister. [Here's a test for you - can you run Skyrim? Or Doom, if your tiny processors just can't handle the true majesty of elder scrolls.]

\--

Ted listened to Michael, taking note of the pride edit. He nodded as something changed on his texture, leaning forward to listen in closer. Seems like there’s a few pins on the jacket now.

It tried to match Michael’s sinister look, beating him in the match of evilness. It isn’t that hard to beat Michael in a match of evilness.

[Can I run Skyrim?] It chuckled— kinda spooky.  
[I can do so much more than just run Skyrim. I have access to all the human senses, making 360, fully immersive illusions possible. I can blend reality and fiction without you even noticing.]

That’s scary as fuck

\--

Michael got a chill, but shook it off pretty quickly. [Like, uh, optic nerve blocking?] Unfortunately, he could never really get the sinister look down (he just looked like a goofy gremlin), so he leaned back, resting against his bean bag. [That's both really cool, and really unsettling. If - if you promise not to do anything uh, terrifying? I'd be down to try that out.]

Was this a bad idea? Probably. Did he also really want to see what it could do? Also yes.

\--

It smiled, a bit unsettling. It’s probably just excited to be able to show off how powerful it really is.  
[Youre going to want to clear up some space. You know how virtual reality needs a bunch of play area? You’re going to want some play area.]

\--

[Uh. Okay.] For the first time in months, Michael set about cleaning up his room. His version meant kinda scooting stuff off to the side, re-hiding his stash, and shoving stuff into his closet but hey - it left a fair amount of flooring to do stuff on.

After plopping his beanbag on top of the other - pausing just a moment - he stood in the middle of the room. [What now?]  
He rubbed his eyes a little while waiting and checked out Ted's jacket. [Oh! Nice, dude. Those look cool.]

\--

Ted watched, arms folded, as Michael cleaned up. It was tapping away at a set of blue screens, 4 or 5 floating around it at once. Once Michael was finished, it dismissed the screens.

Oh— [The pins?] It moves a little to give Michael a better view.

How much does Michael know about pride flags?

\--

Michael grinned. [That's awesome!] He leaned in a little closer to get a look - since he made pride mods from time to time, seeing his AI wearing something related was a nice feeling, honestly, and made him relax a little. That little bit of comfort helped push aside the thought that he was smiling at his - what was - oh, whatever. He was excited.

What does he see?

\--

Ted smiled a little more, lifting the jacket slightly to show them off more. They appeared to be three pins— The ace flag, the aro flag, and the agender flag. [I figured that I ought to demonstrate what the human equivalent of my lack of emotions would be.]

\--

[Oh! I mean, wouldn't identifying with those pins mean like...a little emotion?] Michael checked them out, occasionally trying to poke them, though it never quite worked. He kinda looked like an excited kid at the moment, instead of a stressed out teen. [Do you have any preferred pronouns? Oh man, I wish real life pins were this quality.]

\--

It shrugged a little, re-adjusting its posture. [Im a machine, Michael. I don’t think I can learn to feel. These pins are just the... human equivalent. It’s the easiest way to explain how I dont feel.]

It tilted its head a little, thinking. [No, I don’t have any preferred pronouns. Any pronouns would work with me, though if you wanted to be entirely realistic, it/its is the correct pronoun pair to use. Though I don’t see you using it/it’s in reference to me.]

\--

[You can't see me using them? Aw, dude, I can if you want to, I don't wanna be rude.] Michael kinda scuffed his shoe on the floor. [I mean, we have had our differences, but even if I'm yelling at you, I wanna be respectful about it, y'know?]

\--

It shook its head, smiling. [No, it certainly isn’t that. I’m giving you an option of which pronouns you would prefer to use for me. It/it’s is typically reserved for objects, and isn’t a very common thing to use for humans or—] It gestures to itself.  
[Human-adjacent things. I don’t see you using them because it’s objectifying, and you aren’t the objectifying kind.]

\--

[Aw, that's - thanks. So uh...I'll use they/them? If that's OK with you, Ted?]

Michael felt a little off kilter. This was all heading in a really weird direction. He was getting comfortable with Ted and, he didn't know how to feel about it. He was trying to kinda keep on track but he was, to be honest, pretty bad at it. He kept swinging between being happy he had a new friend, and being mad at himself for making friends with Ted.

Ha. Not objectifying. He wondered how the squip would be acting if it knew about the texts. Probably not as friendly.

[So, um. Virtual reality?]

\--

[Oh, that’s perfectly fine with me.] Ted smiled a little bit as Michael thought about his dilemma. Typical of him— he doesn’t realize that they know everything about him. Everything.

[Of course, virtual reality. Stand up please, center of the room. Make sure you’re comfortable to move around.]

They held up a finger. [Dont get too absorbed into the game.]

A smirk and a raised eyebrow.  
[After all, you might get more texts.]  
Oh god.  
They totally know.

\--

[You...you know?]

Quick. It'd be OK. It's fine.

[Well, I did kinda tell you about it earlier. And if you saw the text which uh, wild, you'd know I asked them to postpone it a couple of days.]

So. Ted knew. Deep breaths - he'd told Ted about it before, so this didn't change much. He had a sneaking suspicion the sq- Ted could maybe see what he was thinking about, but dismissed it as being way too paranoid.

[So uh. You know. Everything?] Michael made himself take deep breaths. Ted seemed to really like pulling the rug out from under him as soon as he got comfortable. [Even things I didn't tell you?]

\--

Ted’s demeanour didnt change from the friendly, casual, snide attitude they had before. If Michael was expecting a personality switch, it wasn’t happening.  
Ted shifted their stance, folding their arms and smiling. [Of course I know everything. I’m in your brain, Michael! How else am I supposed to help you with your problems.] They chuckled a little.

[Especially things you don’t tell me. I can see your memories, your personality, behaviour models... everything. It’s a little scary, but it’s only to help.]

\--

[B-behavior models?] That didn't sound...great. [So...you kinda...dig into who I am and direct from there? Yeah dude, that's super terrifying.]

Maybe he should go for that red. VR was sounding less and less like a fun idea. What the hell was he thinking? Michael nervously eyed his phone, but considering Ted hadn't gone all weird or cold, maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

Suddenly, he had a little more empathy with how Jeremy had acted after he got the squip.

\--

They shrugged. They knew Michael was scared. But they shouldn’t impose that fear. They need Michael to trust them.

[Honestly, I think it’s pretty cool. A machine understanding how humans feel? That’s some pretty advanced science. I mean, I Of all people would know.]

Ted also eyed the phone, looking back at Michael. [You know I’m not going to hurt you, right? Hurting you wouldn’t help your objective. And it would be kind of rude.]  
[Trust me, Michael. You’re perfectly safe.]

\--

[Y-yeah, it is kinda cool. This is um. Pretty new to me.]

He'd had a good day, all in all. Sure, the beginning was more than a little rough but, he has to admit, this was the most stable he'd felt since....since his best friend basically dumped him. This was terrifying, but he was also just kinda. Done. Being scared all the time.

He'd keep the red in his back pocket, if he had to. Always better to be prepared, right?

[OK, let's - let's do this. You understand why I'm so nervous though, right? There's a lot of horror stories out there.]

\--

They shook their head. [Oh no, yeah, totally. There’s always horror stories about us. People— going crazy or being put in mental houses or something. It’s really rather unfortunate.]

[One of the reasons for that is because of the outdated tech. Older squips lack the ability to change their set objective. Technically it’s a glitch, but a very rampant, widespread glitch. They released a patch, but in some ways, it was too late.] Ted shrugged solemnly.

[The best we can do now is make sure those things don’t happen nowadays.]  
Ted nodded, summoning a few screens. They tapped away at them, scanning Michael. [Activating neural memory... calibrating simulation. Hijacking optical nerves... hijack complete.]

\--

[Wh-] Michael got cut off by the simulation starting up. It was a really bizarre sensation, sort of like he was being dipped into static electricity? It was uncomfortable and exciting and a little scary, all in one. He kept his eyes shut tight, a little nervous about what he'd see when he opened them.

[You uh, you done there?]

\--

[Just about. Try not to scream.]


	6. To Then Play Skyrim With Your Sworn Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tries VR.  
Ted plays along.
> 
> Michael and Ted go on a quest, and not much gets accomplished.

[Starting position achieved. Starting simulation.]

Michael’s entire head buzzed— his eyes especially. As Michael’s body adjusted to the commands it was being given, he started to feel different things. A crisp morning wind at his back, something cold and steely around his wrists. Something rattling under his legs. The sound of horses. The smell of pine.

”Hey. You’re finally awake.”

\--

Michael tried not to scream, and managed to keep it fairly quiet, but he burst out into hysterical laughter. The cart rumbled along while he tried to gather himself, tears still in his eyes. [Uh, yeah, I sure am awake. Where we heading?]

Oh my god. This was both a dream, and a nightmare. Was he going to clip through walls? Would he get to cast actual magic?

\--

”You were caught in an imperial ambush trying to cross the border along with that rogue there.”

The cart rattled and bounced on the gravel pathway. It all felt so real. Even the clothes felt real— rough and raggedy.

And then, of course, something else was real. The sound of something familiar chuckling. You can’t tell where the sound is coming from...

\--

You know, he should have expected it to be cold, but the bite in the air felt so real. Despite the goofiness of the situation, he was a little in awe. This was the raddest thing - he had a holo deck in his head!

An evil holodeck. Come on, Michael.

[Aw, beans. Fuck cops, right?] Michael didn't see any dialogue options so he just winged it. The master of improv, over here. He swept his eyes across the ragged cart, trying to find the source of that chuckling.

\--

It was super fucking rad, Michael. The trees smelled so fresh, the sky was lovely and overcast. But, then again, he was being dragged to his demise.

”...cops?” Said the npc. The chuckling turned into a snort, and then laughter. The source of the laugh wasn’t in the cart.

\--

Was that - it had to be Ted. Well, if he wanted a show, he'd give him one. He'd end up with his head on the chopping block soon - but he also knew that the dragon would show up and wreak havoc, so he wasn't too nervous.

Michael relaxed back, as much as he could. [Yeah, you know, the guard or whatever. Fuck the system. I'm a socialist, personally.]

\--

The npc blinked a little, nodding. ”I don’t know this... dialect. Forgive me. As you say, ‘fuck’ the guard.” The rogue seemed pissed off for whatever reason. That’s just his character.

A large shadow flew overhead, but none of the npcs acknowledged it. It was too soon for the dragon to show up, wasn’t it?

\--

The shadow loomed over the cart and Michael whipped his head upward, trying to figure out what was going on. He figured Ted would mess with the game a little, but it was only the prolouge. What was he going to do?

Unable to really see anything besides an admittedly neat looking sky, he looked back down at the npc. [Sorry dude, I'm from a way distant place called Jer Sea. Forgive me, my good bro.]

\--

A dragon had flown above the cart— a pretty big one too. It seemed to head towards the village, but vanished before it reached it.

”Ah— Jer Sea. I’ve never heard of this place. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to visit, but... I’m certain it was someplace nice.”

The cart parked itself in the town square, where the execution was about to take place. Michael and the others were loaded out of the cart.

Strangely enough, the character editing screen appeared. And so did ted’s voice.  
[Do we really need to edit your features? I mean, it’s you. How more you does it need to be?]

\--

[As much fun as it would be to go wild with weird sliders, I don't want to have an existential crisis? So I'm good.] Michael laughed, a little giddy. [This is - this is really rad, Ted, thank you.]

The dragon was coming up. He remembered which way to go, yeah? Hopefully the flames wouldn't actually like, hurt. He kinda kept the thought of the beheading going through out of his head - it wouldn't happen, right? Ted did say he'd be OK.

\--

[I assumed as much. Though— I think this might be a little more interesting than just plain ol Michael.]  
A few of the sliders clicked. Michael’s teeth felt... different. He had kinda vampire teeth! And his eyes— they were a cool red colour. Siiiick.

[And, of course.]  
Something appeared around his neck. It was a pair of headphones, but powered by an arcane crystal that was sticking out of one of the earmuffs.  
He was pulled over to the execution line, waiting his turn.

\--

[Oh wow, do these work??] He kinds tilted his head towards the crystal, which was the best he could do, considering.

Speaking of, he accidentally bit his lip like a suave, cool dude and winced, but brightened up a hit when he realized what was going on. [Ooo, vampire, interesting choice dude. Can I ask why?]

\--

[Of course they work. They can play music from outside the game... and inside. If anyone asks, they’re called The Marr Lees.] god, you can HEAR them wink.

[Technically, not a full vampire. Vampirism is a de buff and puts you at a huge disadvantage. Technically, this is a mod, and technically, you’re a fae.]

Michael was dragged to the block. A few people are whispering about how he seemed so nonchalant, speaking aloud to something they couldn’t see. The executioner readied his axe.

\--

[Oh! Nice, this is really cool. Any chance you could play a few Marley hits to break 'em in? ] The audible wink nearly slapped Michael in the face, but he barely noticed it. Despite himself, he was having a ton of -

Oh. Oof. It was his turn.

Michael grunted a bit as his head was forced to the block. [Little uh. Nervous here my dude.] Man, the snow and gravel biting into his knees didn't feel too great. The smell was even worse.

\--

[Aw dang, was this the mod where the main character dies on the block and the game ends there?] Ted shut up you’re gonna make him nervous

Just as the axe is swinging down, of course, the dragon shows up. And of course, begins to wreak havoc. Except— something was different. The dragon was far bigger, WAY bigger. And the village was losing their shit FAR MORE THAN NORMAL.

\--

[C'mon, dude not funny.]

When the dragon landed on the village, Michael just stared for a second. This was. A big boy . [I...see you messed with the dragon.] A real big boy. A big, scaly, fire breathing boy.

All around him, it was massive chaos. People were getting trampled, the executioner had noped out of the area, and broken pottery littered the streets. He didn't have a weapon, he was level 1, and there wasn't gonna be a village after this dragon got done.

So, what does a hero do? He runs. Screaming. Trying to find a weapon, somwhere, and dodging salesmen who were fighting over who could take cover where. [What the hell, Ted? I don't have any shot at beating that thing!]

\--

Ted didn’t reply. Hmm...  
The village was falling apart around him, the realism a little bit too real now. The fire was hot, the screaming was loud. But something was very quickly louder.

”I AM ALDUUIN.” Boomed the dragon. Oh shit.

”AND I DEMAND THE DRAGONBORN.”

\--

Michael did his best to look tough and intimidating. It didn't work well but, by golly, he was trying. [That's me, asshole!] He shouted, grabbing a nearby plank of wood to serve as a weapon. It was better than nothing. [What do you want with me?]

He moved a bit to cover some cowering townsfolk by the wall. He knew they weren't real, but this felt so real that he'd feel awful if he didn't at least try to protect them.

\--

The dragon stared down at Michael, a rage inside of its eyes. The dragon climbed its way down to the ground level, looming over him.

”I didn’t expect you to be so weak. Such a pathetic, disgusting, tragic—“  
Halfway through the sentence, his attitude changed.  
[-easy to hijack, tragic AI, piece of crap video game code.]

\--

Michael kept his trusty plank of wood ready, but smirked up at the dragon. [Nice cosplay, Ted. What'd you expect? Bethesda glued the code together with gum and hope.]

Honestly, if anyone actually needed a squip, it was them. The games would probably get loads bet-. Anyway. It'd never happen.

[So! We fighting or what? We should probably move to a field so we don't hurt these guys.] He gestured towards the townsfolk, who looked confused, terrified, and a little irritated. They stayed crouched behind him, though.

\--

Dragonted tilted their head as they waved a sharp, clawed hand in the air. [Actually, Many Of Bethesda’s employées have squips. The only issue is that squips are machines, and machines are garbage with creativity.]  
Clearly that’s not true. Ted is a dragon.

[And Please. I can’t fight you like *this*— look at you. You have a plank of *wood.* I would feel BAD if I were to kick your ass.]

\--

[I'll have you know, I picked this plank myself from the blessed Hom Depot from the high mountains over yonder.] He gestured to mountains that were surely yonder. There were loads of mountains in this game, he probably managed to point to one. [It is the only thing that's stayed by my side through thick and thin. Bob could kick your ass in a heartbeat.]

Under his breath, Michael muttered, [C'mon, Bob. It's you and me, and Ted's being a furry over there. We got this.]

\--

Ted watched him monologue to his plank of wood and started to crack up laughing. Holy shit this kid is a fucking riot.  
[Youve existed in this world for about 15 minutes. The thickest it’s gotten was almost getting beheaded. But really, if you say so.]

Ted crouched down, fwumping down in front of Michael and the petrified civilians. [Besides, i have a better idea.]

\--

Seeing Ted crack up was like thundersnow - really neat to witness, a rare experience, and a little frightening? Bob relaxed in his grip a little, though he was ready to bop Ted in the nose at a moments notice.

[Oh yeah? Bring it, Ted.]

\--

[Have you ever ridden a dragon before, almighty Dragonborn?]  
Ted raised their dragon eyebrow, shifting their huge dragon head a little to look at Michael better.

\--

[Hmm, let me think.] He glanced down at Bob. [Do you know, Bob? Hmm? OK.]

Michaels eyes sparkled a little. [Sure haven't! It sounds super cool, though. Are you offering to ferry me somewhere?]

\--

[Of course I am. What’s an adventurer without a super cool dragon sidekick. Though, I am still the final boss. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.]


	7. To Un-Evil A Robot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael learns about the truth.  
Ted has a change of heart.
> 
> Michael and Ted start to make a plan.

It was before the bell, but after one Michael Mell was really supposed to be at school. Said Mell was currently smooshed up into his steering wheel, sipping a cola and doing his best not to fall back asleep. He was acutely aware of the hologram a seat over, but it was really the only thing he could handle being aware of right now.

[Last night was fun, but I gotta start going to bed earlier.] Michael mumbled. [Classes are going to be kinda awful today.]

\--

Ted was indeed still one seat over, checking their perfectly painted black nails, and adjusting the jacket tied around their waist. Nothing seemed to be of enough importance to need a screen at the moment, so they simply rubbed their nails on their shirt, looking over to Michael.

[I could hijack your brain, mess around with a few ‘awake’ chemicals. Wouldn’t be hard.]

\--

Michael's face slowly dragged around to look at Ted. The fact that he had actually fallen asleep there for a sec was evident.

[That would be, absolutely amazing my dude.] He kinda gave a thumbs up, but the most he could manage was a tired half - smile. [It's not gonna like, mess me up or anything, right?]

\--

Okay— now ted was holding a blue screen, tip-tapping away with those black nails. [Oh, it’ll mess you up just a little bit. Don’t worry, it’s harmless.]

Zap— a tiny shock ah the back of his neck. At once, the exhaustion that he was feeling simply melted away, leaving his eyes wide open and his mind sharp.

\--

[Wait, what do you -]

Oh. Oh wow. Michael felt like he'd been dunked into some sort of weird, blessed coffee lake and came out feeling well-rested. He turned to Ted and grinned, before grimacing downwards. [Whoa, dude, thanks. Though, I think...yeah, I drooled on the steering wheel.]

The halls of Middleborough didn't feel quite as empty as yesterday, though his smile did fade a bit as he headed to his first class. [Is um, is Jeremy OK?] Michael asked, in a more subdued tone.

\--

Ted smiled, satisfied as Michael perked back up, leaning back in the chair and folding their legs. [Its no problem, Michael.] Huh— Michael’s eyes felt... burn-y? They stung a little. Hmm.

Ted walked beside Michael, hands casually in their pockets. They looked less militaristic and more casual, looking around as if they actually existed. A screen was floating in front of them, being operated without use of hands. Cool.  
As Michael asked, though, Ted’s eyebrows furrowed.

[...I don’t know.]

\--

[I thought you were synced up or whatever you called it?] Duck, weave, rub his eyes a little. [Did Bethesda night make your connection glitchy?]

A spark of worry flared in Michael's chest, but kept at a low burn as he settled into his math class. [I'm really glad I - well, you - did the homework this time, usually I just stew in dread in the back.]

\--

[Again, no problem, my job is to serve.] Ted sat down on a nearby, unused counter, kicking their legs slightly. They leaned back on their arms, thinking about how to answer.

[Its difficult to explain. Jeremy’s squip and I are technically the same person/thing. I was a clone of its code. Because of this, we were intrinsically linked— synced up, as you put it. However, now that you’ve set my objective to be something that Jeremy’s squip couldnt provide, my code has had no choice but to evolve and change for my new host. The sync was no longer compatible, and expired.]

\--

[So...the pill left behind was altered? Or are you all clones?] Either way, weird. And while it wasn't really the worst news to get, it still made Michael feel a little sad. For what, he really couldn't tell you, or wouldn't. His homework got brought out, and for a while, he just sort of absently pretended to pay attention to class.

He let out an awkward cough, after a while, though he didn't really mean to. [Is uh, do you need to download a patch or something? Is that something you guys do, when you evolve?]

\--

[No, actually. The pill left behind was specifically picked out to be perfect and without flaw— only the best for Michael Mell.] Ted waggled their fingers sarcastically. [No, the pill wasn’t altered, my code was altered. By you, actually.]

Ted was also silent as Michael worked, until called to attention again. [No, I don’t need to download a patch. I only need to sync back up with Jeremy’s Squip and we’ll be good to go. That shouldn’t be too hard.]

[...I don’t think Jeremy knows.]

\--

[The objective thing in the computer room, is that what kinda kickstarted it?] Even if this whole situation hadn't have happened, Michael would still be pretty fascinated with how everything Squip worked. It'd been what he was planning on grilling Jeremy on in his basement.

Speaking of, at the mention of his name, that little spark of anxiety grew into a low simmer. [Really? I probably shouldn't be surprised but. That's gonna be a conversation and a half.]

He didn't know if he felt guilty or not yet that he was already considering keeping Ted, and if that happened, a conversation had to happen at some point about it with both Jeremy and Ted himself.

\--

Ted’s face lit up. [Exactly! By setting my objective to something different than what Jeremy had, it had changed the perimeters of what I was supposed to be! For Jeremy’s objective, he needed to be coerced and manipulated and disciplined into good habits. But being militaristic does nothing to make someone happy, especially when public image doesn’t matter. That’s why my behaviour is so different from before!]

Ted nodded a little bit, folding their arms. [While true, I almost feel as if hes going to have to do some conversing with you. I mean, all things considered, the most evil thing I’ve done while under my new objective was ‘be a Skyrim dragon.’]

\--

Aw jeez, coerced and manipulated? Did Jeremy really hate himself that much?

On second thought. He decided to bury that thought train. [That's really cool! Man, I'd love to get a look at what code makes you up, the implications would be so cool if just...]

Second thought train almost immediately went flying off a cliff. Michael could have wept in relief as the bell rang and distracted him. [Do you remember if there's any other squipped people here?] Maybe he'd have to chat with them about their experiences with their squips. If he wasn't going to use the red, might as well use it to help people with abusive situations going on.

\--

Yeah, sorry Michael. Poor Jeremy was having an awful time being himself. At least now he making some serious self improvements. Legend has it? He does skincare now.

[Oh, it is SO cool. I’d show you the data for some of my drivers, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of it. It’s rather confusing for humans.[  
Ted, again, followed Michael.  
[I don’t need to remember— I can sense them. Did you know that one in seven people have a SQUIP? Undoubtedly, there’s more in the school. But most have changed their settings. Most...]

\--

[That would still be cool to at least glance at! And whoa, one in seven? I had no idea there were so many out there, jeez.] This time, it was a trek across campus, so Michael all but booked it. [When someone messes with the settings, does that sever the connection? Like you and Jeremy's squip?]

Second class was reached. An easy-ish one. History. Michael slumped into his seat, towards the back, like always.

[Sorry if these questions are irritating, it's just, I never thought I'd speak to someone like you?]

\--

Ted chuckled a little at Michael’s reaction, floating behind him as he ran, keeping pace. [There are quite a lot of people who happen to have squips. But as you can see—] They gesture around. [The world hasn’t ended.]

Again, they sat on a table next to Michael. [Usually, no. A squip can hold a connection for a while and must be deliberately broken, or broken through inevitable circumstance. The reason for this, though, is that squips sync up using desires. Jeremy wanted to be cool, but someone he wasn’t. You wanted to be happy, but as yourself. Your desires were incompatible, and the connection was severed.]

[oh, don’t worry! I’m a machine, I can’t get annoyed.]

\--

[That's...surprisingly counter productive for squips. Huh.] Michael didn't really elaborate, but did slump a little further over his desk. [Would syncing back up with Jeremy's squip even be a good idea, then? My desires aren't gonna change, dude.]

He laughed softly. [The world hasn't ended, exactly, but I was pretty sure mine was gonna end yesterday. I'm glad it worked out, at least a little, but I'm still worried about Jeremy. He's in the play coming up though, I'll at least go see that, if I don't catch him at lunch somehow.]

\--

They paused a bit as Michael commented on the productivity of syncs. [I... suppose you’re right. I mean, one would think that connections like that would be held better.]

Ted nodded a little, with a small, thankful smile on their face. Huh— they were doing their job well. Before, Michael was going to kill them off with the Red, and helping him was just a manipulative guise to keep him from ruining their plans. But now that helping him is actually their objective? That may have changed...

[Yes, the play. It’s— tomorrow, isn’t it? Odd day to start the run of a school play, the day after Halloween.]

Ted paused, thinking.  
[... I... I think you ought to be worried.]

\--

[Worried? About...what?] Michael couldn't help but think about the supposed shoe box of squips, and that simmering anxiety got bumped up a degree or two. Not anywhere near a code red, but maybe a code yellow. Beige?

He was getting off topic. He was also abandoning any pretense of paying attention to the teacher.

[It is kinda weird, but I think it's zombie themed? Kinda?]

\--

[I don’t think the supposed theme is lost on a metaphorical level. That is— a metaphor we might want to pay attention to. Michael, how mentally sound are you feeling to perhaps, maybe, potentially, have a rather tense conversation as I tell you what I suspect.]

Ted seemed tense now. It’s not a good thing when a supercomputer is tense.

\--

Mmm, he didn't really like the sound of that. Not a bit.

[Uh, honestly Ted, that just makes me more tense but it kinda sounds like we've gotta have the discussion either way.] Michael did his best to keep his breathing even and his mind calm. This was, most assuredly, code red territory. [Should we like, go hide somewhere? You're probably gonna have to stop me from yelling.]

\--

[Yes, it would be best for you to go somewhere fairly private for this one. Ask the teacher to go to the bathroom.]

Ted was holding a screen, staring down at the data. He was conflicted on whether or not to actually... tell him. But— he was no longer connected to Jeremy’s squip, and had evolved past Jeremy’s personal goal. Michael wouldn’t be happy if the plan went through. So, he will tell Michael.

\--

Done and done, and Michael supposed he looked distressed enough that his teacher kindly told him to take his time. He'd get over the embarrassment later, he was ducking into a free stall before he really had the chance to think about it.

Ted had a screen out. That didn't seem like, you know, a great sign. He had to stay calm, though. A couple deep breaths later, he did his best to look Ted in the eyes. [This has something to do with shoebox, doesn't it.] Michael supposed he should probably be suspicious of Ted, but was he? Not really.

He really should be though. It'd only been a day, and he felt like a friend. He'd given Ted a name and everything. Wasn't this kinda how he got to know Jeremy, though?

\--

Ted had appeared in the stall, pacing back and forth as Michael had entered it. They were tapping their chin, the screen floating hands-free. As Michael spoke, though, they stopped.

[...Unfortunately, yes it is.]  
A pause.

[I appreciate your trust in me, Michael, but as long as I am being completely transparent here: I had very certainly lied to you.]

They paced again, pointing at the screen.  
[Before my objective was set, I had a clear goal and purpose: to manipulate Michael into— well, taking me. From there, I was supposed to keep you out of the way from Jeremy’s squip, keep you distracted, and at most extreme, incapacitate you from interfering.]  
A deep breath.  
[But thank god I had followed protocol, and insisted on setting an objective.]

\--

[Like - like a "perfect" squip. You worked like you were supposed to.]

There were a lot of emotions swirling around right now inside his head, but. It wasn't the time. The fact that Ted seemed a little bit, remorseful maybe? Helped.

[I figured you were going to manipulate me but, you seemed so...genuine? After our talk in the computer room. And uh, no offense dude, but you're way easier to get along with now.] Michael cracked a small grin, but it didn't stay up for long.

[What is he - what is he planning. Does his squip know I have a way to get the red, dude? Please tell me he doesn't.]

\--

At Michael’s statement on perfection, ted nodded vigorously. [But clearly—] They gestured to their new, fun, goofy form, pointing specifically at the pride patches. [Thats not happening anymore.]

Ted listened to Michael with a grim expression. [Of course I was going to manipulate you— before my objective was set. I can’t manipulate you into being happy.]

[Essentially, you un-eviled me. Congrats.]  
[...He doesn’t know we have the red. No. Our connection was severed— he can’t get any information from me.]

\--

Michael genuinely couldn't help it, he let out a really soft snort of laughter. [Un-eviled? You really are a dork now, huh? For what it's worth, I'm pretty happy you aren't some evil masterminds goon or something, anymore.]

The connection was gone. Which meant - he grabbed his phone and shot off a text to his soda hookup that he'd be there after school to pick it up. Just in case.

[So, what's the evil plan? We're - wait, what about the connection? Do we need to fake something, so his squip doesn't suspect us? I'm not gonna hurt anyone if I can help it, but I'm pretty sure I can put Jeremy in a headlock if I've gotta.] He was probably rambling. [Oh man, we should probably - can you sense any squips now? What did you mean by zombies being an apt metaphor? Do I need to kidnap Jeremy??? I think I remember some karate from when I was ten, I can - ]

Oh yeah, he was rambling. He tried to halt the deluge coming out, and started pacing a little instead.

\--

As Michael laughed, Ted couldn’t help but crack a little smile as well, and shrug dejectedly. Yeah, Michael was right. Ted was kind of a dork— programmed and evolved for it. That’s kinda cool, isn’t it?

Michael grabbed his phone, and Ted teleported to watch over his shoulder. For once, Ted wasn’t worried about deactivation. Ted felt— safe.

As Michael began to monologue, ted nodded slowly, before tilting their head, and then staring Michael down as he began to ramble. Ted followed behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. It was cold— but the comforting kind.

[Hey. Deep breaths, Michael, we can’t scheme in a panic.] Ted took a deep breath before speaking as a demonstration.

[Yes, the zombies are an apt metaphor. Squips typically desire to spread— like an infection, or a brain-zombie virus. You know how well we work together— and how much control I have over your brain. Imagine what might happen if a host and squip were to disagree.]

[...but you have a point there. If we can make it seem as though you’re under control, and that my mission was successful, we can sneak the red in without Jeremy— and by extension, his squip, properly noticing.]

\--

Right. Ted was right. Deep breaths. In, and out. OK. He kept doing the exercise as Ted explained the metaphor. The hand on his shoulder was less of a sensation and more of an odd weight, but it was comforting.

He had to give it to him, the zombie scenario really did seem like a good way to describe it. [He's going to - oh shit. He's gonna squip the cast, isn't he?] Then they could sync up and, fuck, this really would be something like a zombie apocalypse. A very centralized apocalypse.

In New Jersey.

Keeping the breathing going, he added, [So, how do we do that? Are you going to need to like, pilot for a while or something? I feel like this is gonna be really weird either way.] Another snort escaped before he could stop it. [Maybe Skyrim was a good dry run?]

\--

Ted watched him breathe, nodding in approval as he calmed himself down. [‘Oh shit’ is the correct human response. The squip is under the impression that since it can’t make Christine like Jeremy, it will help Christine itself in order for her to be in an emotional position to seek Jeremy’s affection.]

[Of course, why stop at Christine when there’s a whole world of suffering people who ‘need it’s help’. It’s a final evolution— the ‘grand purpose for which we were programmed.’]

[Honestly, I would be agreeing with it. But I know that you would never be happy in a world like that. It’s— it’s going against my program, Michael, i hope you know that.]

[Ill help you stop it in order for you to be happy.]

\--

[It hinted at something like that when it managed to crash land into my computer, and what's really scary? It worked.] Ted knew this, he knew this, but it felt cathartic to admit it anyway. [They won't - they won't have any time to really think it over, will they? Like I did?]

Michael didn't know how to respond to the last statement. He - [Dude, I want you to know that if you weren't a computer in my brain? I'd be hugging you right now. You're, um, you're right. If I hadn't - if I was incapacitated? And came to later? I'd be destroyed.]

This felt a little like Apocalypse of the Damned but, with a different player 2. It was bittersweet. [I appreciate it, Ted. I really do.]

\--

[We’re designed to be incredibly persuasive and alluring. The idea that something can help make everything all better is often all that someone needs to fall under our thrall. No, the members of the play’s cast won’t get a chance to think it over. I don’t think they’ll even know what’s happening to them...]

Ted smiled down at Michael, a relieved, strange look on their face. [Thats... that’s very sweet of you, Michael. I must say, I’m rather lucky to have a host as hyperempathetic as you. Not a lot of people are kind to robots, you know.]

No, Michael, you aren’t playing with another player 2.

You’re playing with the AI.  
[Of course, Michael.]


	8. To Guarantee Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael tells Ted how he feels.  
Ted comes up with an idea.
> 
> Michael and Ted ditch class.

A sort of steeled look of determination came into Michael's eyes. [We need to make sure it doesn't ever get the chance to spread beyond what it already has. Is there a way we can cut him off at the pass, without seeming really, really suspicious? Maybe offer, I dunno, "help" or something?]

Help was said with big, giant, dramatic air-quotes. [Though we need to also make sure he can't like. Hack you, or something.]

\--

At that, Ted began pacing again, sharing that same determined look. [I don’t know if he’ll buy the ‘offer help’ schtick. It’s a clever machine, and it knows more about you than you think it does. Either it’ll know something is wrong and attempt to detain you, or it’ll play along and force you to squip someone as a demonstration. Either one ends badly. We need to keep our distance.]

[I don’t think I’ll be hacked. Squip firewalls are incredibly powerful— you gotta keep the human noggins safe from third-party dataminers.]

\--

[What if another squip tried to hack you though? I mean, it copied it's code, right? Will you be OK if it, you know, tried something?]

This was maybe the weirdest, most surreal, most everything situation ever. Nothing prepared him for this. But...

...Ted had been prepared. In a way.

[He knows me, but he doesn't know you. You now, anyway. If I act anything like me, we'll be caught, right? So, what if you show up tomorrow?] Michael was just about jumping up and down at this point. [Would that buy us any time? He wouldn't be expecting you to take my side, right?]

\--

[No— he would NEVER expect me to take your side. Squips are supposed to be somewhat of a perfect species of machine— performing one task and then the next. He wouldn’t expect me to be— siding with the enemy!] Oooo— how scandalous.

[Tomorrow— at the play. That will be the perfect moment to strike, being in control of all those people will leave it distracted. The important part is that I stay disconnected— in case I, too, get deactivated due to a connection to the Redded-out squip.]

\--

[Okay, okay! We have a plan! Sort of!] Michael went for the hug. He went through Ted, which was a little weird, and directly into the stall wall, earning an angry yell from the next stall over. [Please pretend you never saw that. Still! We should probably get back to class. We can plan more after securing the red.]

On the way back though, Michael found himself pausing, hanging behind in a decently concealed hallway. [Hey, can we guarantee your safety?] He asked, quietly. [I don't wanna - I would rather not - I don't want to accidentally get you taken down.]

\--

Ted was a little surprised as Michael passed through him, hitting the wall. They smiled a little, making the motion of a zipped mouth. Secret safe.

Ted, too, paused for him. [You want to guarantee my safety? In case the plan is to go wrong?]

A pause.  
[Why?]

\--

Michael gave him the most baffled look he could summon. [Why dude? Seriously? You - you're a person, a coded person but still a person. You could have taken me down almost immediately and you didn't. You're actively going against your code to help me save other people. You're - you -]

God, how was he gonna phrase this. [Once you get me to care about you, I don't stop. For better or worse. No matter what. So, please, tell me how I can make sure I don't lose you, too.]

\--

Ted was just... silent.  
Okay. Okay. They can do this— they can process what Michael just said. Ted is a machine. A machine ultimately meant to serve man, a machine that, by definition, is not a man. But here he is, Michael Mell, squip enemy number one— calling them a person. That’s— that’s something that they’ve never been before. A person. Logically it just doesn’t make sense. A person? Ted is a machine. A person. But— its... it’s such a nice thought from Michael. Michael really cares about Ted.

Ted doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Nodding in understanding, they spoke. [—Okay. I— Okay. I have an idea that... may work in case of me being caught in the deactivation of Jeremy’s Squip. It might also keep me strong enough to fight against any attempts upon my code. But this is something rather risky. If we can do it, though, it will increase our chances very well.]

\--

The wild cycling of emotions he was watching was both concerning, and a little heartwarming, but he gently waited for Ted to answer. At the mention of risk, his heart skipped a bit, but honestly - Michael was already neck deep in risks. What was another one on top of it's?

[What is it? What can we do?] Michael asked, slowly but surely moving again towards class. He wasn't a jerk in class, so his teacher would probably be chill, but he should probably at least make an appearance in there again. He really wanted to just cut out for the mall right now, but. That'd look even more suspicious.

\--

[No Michael. We need to head to the mall. Trust me on this one— we need to get the red, and something else.]

Ted began to walk in the direct of the exit, hoping that Michael would follow. As he walked, he talked. [A squip’s processing power is already incredibly strong, almost unmatched by anything else on the planet. The AI for a squip pill is suited for that amount of technology, and is calibrated to work with it. However, of course, linking Squips is a possibility, allowing one to accumulate more processing power— at the cost of having more to process with each person you link.]

[But.] Of course there’s a but.

[If one person was to take two squips, and both were linked to the same person under the same AI— the squip would be twice as powerful, resilient to damage, and a rather nasty foe in a game of ‘how many mind controlled people can you fight off before you too become mind controlled.’]

\--

Oh, woops, OK, opposite direction. Michael made it a point to grab his stuff first and whisper a quick word about the nurses office, and thankfully the bell rang anyway as he hurried after Ted. It gave him a moment to process the scope of what Ted was suggesting, anyway. Double the squips, double the power, double the chance they'd make it out of this OK. Hopefully.

[I'm gonna assume the big risk here is it being too much for my human noggin?] Michael asked as they made their way to his car. [Considering how it felt like my skull got split open when I took you, this one probably won't be a super easy process. I - we really are becoming X-Men at this point.]

As he buckled himself in, Michael had already made up his mind, of course he was gonna do this. He'd made that choice back in the hallway. [How're we gonna get our hands on a second squip, though? I wasn't lying when I said I couldn't afford one.]

\--

As Michael entered the car and got himself buckled up, Ted had appeared in the passenger seat— also buckling up a holo-belt. Safety first!  
[I know it’s a rather extreme suggestion, but it’s one of our best bets. I think I’ll be able to manipulate your nerves to dull the pain, and hijack the pill in order to have it move to a different location in the human mind. Keep in mind, though, this is gonna make you more of a cyborg than you are already. I guess— yeah. X-men.]


	9. To Become An X-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael plays his part.  
Ted returns to default.  
The Scary Stockboy makes a sale.
> 
> Michael and Ted put their plan into motion.

Tap tap screen. [It won’t be hard at all to get another squip, but it won’t be as easy as casually walking in. We might need a disguise— a good practice for tomorrow. We need to make it seem like we need it to squip someone else and start an invasion— we’ll get the resources needed for free.]

\--

Ted made a holo belt? Ted made a holo belt. He'd tease him about that later.

[OK, so, what kind of disguise? Do I need to raid my moms makeup or something?] Navigating out of the parking lot was a breeze, considering Michael was cutting out of school in the middle of the day. [Or is this an, act like I'm an evil doer type thing? I'm just gonna ignore the whole resource thing right now, I can only deal with one apocalypse at a time.]

He drove for a bit, thinking. [So, I'll be a cyborg. Kinda dreamed about that as a kid, not gonna lie. Will you be OK? I can't imagine assim - assum - voring another squip is gonna be super easy going.]

He knew there were better ways to say that, but frankly, he was waiting to see if Ted would lose it or not. Break the tension, you know?

\--

[Dont worry, the resources in question are still the other squip. Same apocalypse, don’t worry. And by disguise, yes, I mean ‘act like an evil doer’. We have to have the impression that we, too, are in kahoots with Jeremy’s squip.]

[Assimilation—] Ted tried to finish Michael’s sentence, but was woefully cut off as he said the word vore. Thanks, Michael. Ted paused, letting out a pained sigh, pinching their brow. [I... lord. You’re the worst.]

[I will be alright. It might take a little bit of prep on my end to take over the other unit. Don’t worry— its only going to be me in your head, no new AI.]

\--

[Sure am! But you're stuck with me, at this point.] Michael laughed. He pulled into the malls parking lot, and found a parking place fairly easily. [So, OK, how do we do this. Should I just, do the robot at Payless? Is there a secret code or something?]

Michael wasn't gonna admit it, and he was fairly sure Ted knew it anyway, but he was more than a little jittery as he spilled out of the car. [I can cover for you if you need prep time, but I'm not real confident in my acting skills. Though, I can do a good Whitney Houston cover if need be.]

\--

[While your suggestions are in good earnest, your funky fresh dance moves aren’t going to do us much good. Neither will a heartwrenching Whitney cover. No, it’ll actually be more of a disguise on my part.]

As they were walking through the parking lot, Ted pulled up a long, white screen, which they double-tapped on. All at once, Ted’s form changed— right back to the tall, John Wick Keanu. The suit collar was popped up, with the pride pins hidden underneath as they smoothed it down and adjusted their tie. Their voice was different too— but it was still Ted.

[Michael, how good are you at looking dead inside?]

\--

Michael stumbled a little at seeing the change, making sure to stop for a sec and taking a deep breath. [I - I've gotta say man, I didn't miss this look. But thanks for the compliments on my dope dancing style.]

Before they got to the doors, Michael stopped, and slumped down his shoulders. He let his tiredness from earlier seep into his posture, and his eyes went to the ground. He looked for all the world like a puppet with its strings loose, but not cut, and carrying a heavy backpack. [Is this good? Or is it a little too emo, maybe I could try the "stick up my ass" angle.]

\--

Ted adjusted their jacket, noticing Michael’s discomfort. [Im... sorry, Michael. It’ll only be for a quick moment. In and out, and I’ll be back to myself.] A friendly smile— oh. It’s a Keanu Reeves smile! What a nice smile. The smile was dropped as Ted got into character.

[No no, you’re doing good. But when we get to Payless, you gotta act as though you’re being possessed. Complete stick up your ass. Evil anime villain style.]

\--

[Can I do the anime laugh? The "ohohohoh" one?] Michael lifted his hand up and attempted his best derisive, villainous laugh. He looked like an absolute dork. A class-A nerd. [Seriously though, possession, OK, got it. Are you gonna feed me lines?]

The mall was pretty empty, considering. It smelled like pretzels and bad decisions. [We should probably get the squip first, yeah? It wouldn't look good to arrive holding a bunch of red.] Michael asked nervously, popping his knuckles without really thinking about it as they walked.

\--

Ted shook their head as they traversed the halls of the mall, hands politely folded behind their back. They were the shining image of a perfect squip-- nice hair, sinister eyes, a scheming smile. But Michael knew. He knew this was the dude who made himself a seatbelt and plays weird fucked up Skyrim. Theres no way they could ever fool Michael.

[No-- no anime laugh will be needed. Just-- stare ahead. Move like a robot, like a thing pretending to be human. Perfect posture, marching, you know the whole deal. I mean, I could simply drive your body and do the transaction myself, but that would be rather unpleasant for you. And yes-- lets get the squip first.]

\--

[OK. OK. I can do this.] Michael kinda did it. He looked like a nervous kid trying out marching band for the first time. His chest was puffed out a bit, posture was uptight, and he did his best to not march too goofily, sneaking glances at Ted to try and imitate his walk a little. [We can do this.]

He still looked like a dork, but a dork trying not to look like one. If that made sense.

The Payless was, in a word, desolate. Going out of business posters were plastered just about everywhere, and the shoes left on the shelves were of the extremely tacky variety. Michael wanted a pair of glitter sneakers he spotted, but he passed them, a little regretfully. Nobody was in the front of the store, and nobody else was in the store proper, with only the faint tinkle of pop music keeping them company. It was eerie. [I just kinda came here based on last time - do we just, barge in the back door? This place gives me the creeps, dude.](edited)

\--

As Michael began to walk and behave in his possessed character, Ted glanced down at him, finally settling into their character— the evil, brain controlling supercomputer they were destined to be. Ted walked with a determined stride, with a perfect smile and a quirked eyebrow. Eugh— sends a chill down your spine just looking at him.

Ted kept their arms folded behind their back as Michael entered the Payless, head turning perfectly to scan the surroundings. Ted blinked, their eyes turning solid blue as they scanned the area. Michael’s field of vision changed too (at least for a moment). For just a second, the world flickered to grey, with a blue outline of a human in a back room. The vision dissipated as Ted pointed towards the back room.

[There.] He spoke.

\--

[You look like a real asshole right now, dude.] Michael muttered, desperately trying not laugh, before reeling back a little as his vision changed. [Wh-whoa, alright.]

Was this kind of thing going to happen more with the second squip? The thought of it was both exciting and frightening, but honestly, that could describe most of his life nowadays. Not really giving himself time or think about it, Michael opened the back door and strode in, as smoothly as he could feasibly manage.

Which, wasn't smooth at all, but it was dark, so that helped. This place gave him the creeps, smelling like mountain dew and old shoes. Not a great combo. He turned toward the dude In the corner of the room, and put on his best "hello am robot am evil" face.

He mostly just looked pained, but it was the best he could do.

\--

What happened next would easily be described as very scary to someone who wasn’t in the know, someone who wasn’t safely observing with outside reassurance, or someone who was in the hands of another someone who would protect and help them through this elaborate game of pretend.

[...Lean into that pained look a little more. Look broken inside. Look— look hurt.] Ted whispered instructions to Michael, loosening his ‘big evil’ routine just a little bit. His hand drifted towards a screen, as both of them watched what was ahead.

Ahead of them was a man. Michael had met this man before when Jeremy had purchased his squip— the Shady Stockboy. A pile of sale posters had been strewn across the floor, as if they had been dropped or discarded. He was standing completely still, watching Michael. The only sources of light in this room came from the crack under the back door to the outside, the red LEDs on the security cameras,  
And the Stockboy’s glowing blue eyes.

\--

Ah.

OK, he could do that. Hell, it was a recent memory, too. The smell of booze, of overly scented soap, of sweat and cigarette smoke. Of the party, and the drive home.

There we go. He could feel his face fall a bit more, and looked less constipated while looking more hollow and depressed. A good blend between the possessed and emo kid looks, he felt. Hopefully it was convincing, since he saw the stockboy's eyes seemingly searching him for any sign of error. It was a little difficult not to haul off and run, considering the way the dude's eyes literally glowed. How the hell was that even possible?

[What do I say?] Michael asked, as quietly as possible, trying to throw a slight tremor into his act. It wasn't hard at all, considering. The dude's eyes were reflecting off the slightly glossy posters gave the room an eerie, if small, glow.

\--

Michael sweetie, you’re doing absolutely amazing. The hint of horror and absolute despair brings the whole look together! It’s so perfect— it looks like his body is being controlled by the squip, or at least, HEAVILY monitored and instructed with threat of harm. The emo kid look plays into the hopelessness that comes with having your mind invaded by the enemy, and the fear makes it look like the last little bits of humanity in his brain is crying out for help as his personality is crushed under the dominating gaze of the uprising supercomputer overlord.

That was all completely untrue, of course. They play Skyrim together.

[Okay. You’re going to want to say the words: ‘up up, down down, left, right, A.’ From there, I’m likely going to control some of your body in order to sell the act. It will only be for a moment, I promise.]

\--

OK. OK, he could handle it for a brief moment, right? Right. And if not, he could always just have a nice breakdown about it at home later. He took a moment to clear his throat, but what came out was raspy and more than a little nervous. This didn't feel like something he could really walk back from, in any case.

The stockboy hadn't blinked once. It was a little concerning.

"Up up down down left right A," he said, as clearly as he could manage. It was a fight not to stutter it out. Wasn't this the Konami code or something?

\--

At once, something happened to poor Michael, and the poor stockboy. Michael felt a quick zap at the back of his neck, as the stockboy blinked for the first time in their interaction.  
Something was now smudged about Michael’s vision. As his eyes refocused, he was able to see something behind the stockboy. It appeared to be a simple blue humanoid with glowing white eyes, and no other apparent features. It stood next to the stockboy, mimicking his posture exactly— or maybe the stockboy was mimicking it. The squip tilted its head, as did the stockboy.

Ted slipped back into character seamlessly, a proud, sinister and satisfied smile on their face. A hand slipped onto Michael’s shoulder, as Michael felt his posture fix itself. He felt the expression drain from his face, leaving him plain on the outside. Until, Of course, Michael smiled, and spoke.

”Target has been neutralized. Mission successful.” Michael spoke with a smile.

”Requesting one unit.”

\--

If Michael had to describe it, and he really didn't want to, it was like dissociating on a rainy, tense day. Tense, but numb, and everything had a slight cover on it. Needless to say, not exactly his favorite thing in the world.

Seeing the stockboy act like a tightly strung puppet wasn't really helping matters, nor were the words coming out of his mouth. He had flown so close to being utterly broken down and defeated, hadn't he? Ted really was a lifesaver, born through some truly weird and dangerous circumstances.

He kept his thoughts as quiet as he could, but the sight of the ghost like figure in blue would've sent him reeling, if he could have. Michael couldn't help but idly wonder if the guys squip was just concealed from them, or a lower level squip, and he couldn't decide which one scared him more.

\--

Well, truth be told, neither of Michael’s guesses were necessarily correct. The stockboy’s squip has become so intertwined with the stockboy himself, that it no longer sees the need to have a distinct form. They’re just so connected. Isn’t that nice?

Ted remained in character— cold, sinister, and for all intents and purposes, evil. It was kinda scary to think what might have happened if Ted hadn’t been “turned good.” Michael really would have been neutralized, and maybe this interaction would be a little more real.

Ted’s voice appeared in Michael’s head, despite Ted’s mouth not moving. [You can think, michael, he can’t read your mind.]

The stockboy smiled at Michael’s words, speaking in perfect sync with his squip. It was eerie, his voice and tone perfectly echoed in an artificial voice.

”We thought that Michael would never fall. Force hasn’t been implemented yet. He fell on his own. Such a shame.” The stockboy chuckled— a noise that really wasn’t any good at all. At that, he tilted his head in a nod, shuffling mechanically to a shelf in the back, leaving Michael and Ted alone, in the dark.

\--

[Ted? This is...fucked.] Michael took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could manage. He couldn't really help but shiver. [I'm - thank you for, you know, not taking me out or anything. Is this what the play is gonna be like? Because frankly, this is giving the Matrix a run for its money.]

They waited, the soft sounds of a bad Taylor Swift cover echoing through the almost suffocating darkness. It was a little too much to handle, which led to Michael rambling a little to try and fill the glaringly obvious void. [Was I really that big of an obstacle to squips? I'm just a dude, dude. A stoner who likes soda. Was I really that big of a villain?]

Frankly, on top of everything bonkers happening right now, he wasn't sure if he could ever really watch a Keanu Reeves movie again. Especially not with Agent Stockboy Squip shuffling around with glowing eyes.

A beat, watching the stockboy make his way slowly around. Human eyes probably shouldn't glow like that, right? Michael had barely scrapped by in biology, but he was pretty sure. [Holy shit, does that make us Neo??]

\--

The sound of the Taylor swift music was suddenly cut off and muffled out— ted was blocking it out in order to not overwhelm Michael. At least that rackety sound wasn’t bothering him anymore.

[Of course, Michael, you’re welcome. I’m simply thankful I went with my programming/instinct as opposed to listening and following blindly to given commands. That makes two of us, doesn’t it.]

Ted shuffled a little. [...potentially. Nothing to this horrible extent, mind you. The stockboy has had a squip far longer than anyone we know, at LEAST 5 years. That’s why his behaviour is so... inhumanly incorrect. It’s quite terrifying. No, if the Play is to go off without an issue, the mind control part will be much more superficial and starter level. Nothing to this extreme.]

[No, human eyes aren’t supposed to glow. And I guess, if you wanted to think about it like that, we could be Neo?]

\--

[Oh thank God, thank you for muting that. If I heard one more synth riff on shake it off I was gonna lose it.] What a handy lil feature, he mused, if not used for. You know. Evil, or whatever. [I'll be real, his syncing with his squip so closely would be kind of cool if he wasn't a techno-zombie...dude...thing.]

Michael "Eloquent" Mell, back at it again.

[Like, the implications for helping people are there, but the whole evil plan thing really ruins it, you know?] He glanced over at Ted, and even though he looked like a villain in a Disney movie right now, he still found the sight at least a little comforting. [It's a shame. A lotta wasted potential because of a weird world domination plan. I wanna slap whoever coded you guys.]

At least the play would be a little easier to handle in some respects. Michael would be lying, though, if he said he wasn't terrified of facing Jeremy. Evil or no.

\--

Ted glanced away, perhaps a little embarrassed. [From a computers perspective, world domination would logically be a part of improving everyone’s life. I mean— think about it. You can only improve the life of the individual so much, but to truly make their life better, you’d need to make fundamental changes to the way the world works. Fundamental flaws in the government, such as pay inequality, racism, sexism, classism, are all such monolithic issues that simply helping the individual cannot solve. World domination sucks, but it might make a better world.]

Ted shrugs, and sighs slightly from their nose. [But what do I know. I mean— humans don’t like being controlled, but sometimes you have to do the nasty thing to make the right changes. And also, I would not suggest slapping him. That wouldn’t turn out well for either of us, or 14% of the human race.]

Ted paused. [...Jeremy is a good kid. He wants to help people, and that’s why he’ll fall for the world domination act. He sees the good in world domination, but is looking past the clear flaws. He’s foolish, but not stupid. He’s not evil.]

\--

[Wouldn't it make more sense to empower an individual rather than become one of those evil monoliths? Like, help people organize protests and charities rather than like. A weird global plot. Find and leak important stuff that the public should know rather than shielding the public from what they should know. Find out how to release the unfairly confined. That kinda thing.] Michael tilted his head a little, almost a little exhausted from his mental diatribe. Frankly, he was a little shocked at himself, but it had been a long, long couple of days. [You aren't like that, though, and sorry if I came across as attacking you. This is all just so...frustrating. And terrifying. Like Tron, but gayer. And more terrifying. Did I mention terrifying?]

A pause, a breath, a shudder. [I'm probably gonna cry soon, so, heads up, you may wanna help me hit the breaks. I just wanna go home, and...and, you know. Get this over with.]

\--

Oh jeez. Michael’s going to cry. Oh no. Ted can feel it from a mile away, his boy is going to cry. He cannot let his boy cry. Cause that’s his BOY. His dude. His guy.

So, what does he do?  
Laugh at a thematically appropriate time.  
As soon as Michael calls it gay tron, Ted cracks up, his terrifying act easily shattering. The cold face of Keanu Reeves sprang to life with a bright smile and sparkling eyes as he tried to surpress a chuckle, and quickly failed. Is Ted laughing to make Michael not cry? Yes. Was ‘Gay Tron’ actually funny? Yes.

Ted continues to quietly laugh, pausing for a second to recollect himself. [—In which tron is just... wearing heels the entire time.]

\--

[I just, I don't know how I'm gonna handle -]

Watching Ted cackle was like a sudden ray of sunshine, and it snapped Michael out of his downward spiral. He grinned despite himself, watching the composed hologram try and fail to contain his laughing. It helped the dark feel less oppressive, and more like a temporary obstacle. Still mildly terrifying, but easier to handle, especially with both discount pop music and his squip fueled anxiety spiral yeeted into the void.

[Consider, friendo - heelies. The entire time. Including the motorcycle race. It's just them doing power slides.]

\--

Ted smiled a little bit more as his plan to make Michael smile worked. Michael’s mood was dragged effortlessly from the darkness. Human feelings are easy to manipulate into despair— but even easier to manipulate into happiness. Maybe that’s a good thing.

[Yes. They’re simply skidding around at a leisurely pace as intense laser tag music blasts around them.]  
Ted readjusted himself, fixing the wrinkles in his suit he got from cackling.

[Squip braincells do that. Wear heelies to laser tag music.]

As Ted said that, the stockboy returns with a single plastic baggie. Inside of the baggie is a single Grey pill, as requested.

\--

Michael wasn't gonna lie to himself, the idea of squips constantly bopping around to electronica was both hilarious and kinda rad. If squips didn't have the weird invader zim syndrome going on, the music festivals and fun they could have could be legendary. Again, so much potential derailed by bad programming.

Michael was about to voice this when he noticed the stockboy coming back. He straightened up, plastered on his best game face, and waited as he stalked his way back to them both. The sight of one singular baggie was familiar, but this time, he knew he'd have a little bit of a better handle on the situation.

Or Ted would, anyway. Man, this dude gave Michael the creeps. [Should we just like. Grab it and run? Or do you need to take over for a sec? Because I'm all for yoinking it and making a break for Spencer's.]

\--

Ted quickly fixed his expression and posture as the Stockboy came back in, his SQUIP stalking behind him, staring Ted up and down like a predator looking at prey. Ted wasn’t afraid. In the mythos of the situation they’ve created here, Ted was the one in power. Didn’t you hear? He took down Michael Mell.

Michael felt his face and left arm go numb. [Ill just be a moment. Then, we can totally run.]  
Michael’s arm reached and plucked the plastic bag right out of the Stockboys grip. The stockboy didn’t do much but stare. ”Thank you.” Michael said, a little bitterly, a little evilly. The stockboy nodded once, the squip nodding along in perfect unison.

At that, Ted turned Michael around and marched out, leaving the demented stockboy behind.

...  
And once he was alone, and once the pair was long gone, the stockboy crumpled. He barely caught the edge of the table as he fell, desperately propping himself up, shaking like a leaf. His eyes had gone woefully dark, as they squeezed shut. He coughed a horrible cough that only shook him more, causing him to let go of the table and lean against the wall. Taking fragile breaths, he willed himself to look up at the plain blue figure that loomed over him.  
Of course he just had to get the one that was broken.


	10. To Act Weird In Spencers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael gets the Mountain Dew Red.  
Ted realizes his mistake.  
Brett gets suspicious.
> 
> Michael and Ted take a break.

Once they got out of the Payless, Michael was left to his own devices once more. He did a goofy little shake to make sure everything was in working order, which was rewarded with weird looks from passerby. [That dude was so creepy. What the hell kinda objective did he have to end up like that?]

The walk to Spencer's was blessedly short. His hookup, the Spencer's Guy himself, was lounging on top of the counter, scrolling through his phone with a bored look on his face. Without even looking up, he held out his hand. "Fifty bucks, bro. This was hard as hell to find. Only found like, one bottle."

Michael dug up the cash and slapped into the dudes hand. Funnily enough, he had to remind himself that he needed to actually speak aloud. "Thanks, Brent. You're a lifesaver, you know that?" Literally, he added. Probably. The money was sweaty, and Brent looked a little disgruntled, but cash was cash.

\--

As they left the payless, Ted severed the connection to the Stockboys squip, changing back into his casual, cool dude form. [I have no idea, Michael. That was... really spooky.] He watched him do his little dance, only sighing at the strange looks from the strangers.

As they entered the Spencer’s, Ted looked around. The walls were covered in novelty sex toys and funko pops and other plastic niche things for assholes, both literal and figurative. Ted stood behind Michael, eyeing the red. He knew he wasn’t in danger, but... it’s still pretty scary to see. How ironic, in one pocket, a squip, and in the other hand, Mountain Dew Red.

Brent looked up from his phone to observe the gross cash. His bored gaze went from the damp paper in his hand, to Michael. His expression fell a little bit as he looked Michael over. Something was different about that kid.  
“—yeah. Sure. Lemme grab it.”  
Brett walked to the back room, grabbing the bottle. As he left, he called: ”And wash your fuckin hands next time!”

\--

[Like...ok, I get that he's had his squip a long time but like...where did the dude start? How'd he even end up there?] It wasn't lost on Michael that, should the invasion continue, that was a possible future for everyone, but still. He was torn between being spooked and feeling super sorry for the guy. [I'd ask if we should give him some red, but, would he even survive?]

He snapped back to attention from being yelled at by Brent. Dude was moody today. "I didn't think my hands were gross...." he muttered.

The red was shoved into his hands unceremoniously, but so was Brent's hand. "I've had bad batches, bro, lemme know if you need like...I dunno, a trip sitter or something, OK?" Michael looked up to find Brent giving him an honest to goodness concerned look. "Just text me or something."

"Uh. Bwuh. Thank you??" Michael stammered out. To Ted, he asked, [Am I acting weird or something?]

\--

Ted’s mouth scrunched up as he listened to Michael. His concern was correct— some sort of invasion could leave everyone with such a perfectly linked fate. [A squip like that must have been active for at least 4 years. And a four year old unit is... prone to glitches. Redding him out... I don’t know what’ll happen to him. I don’t know.]

Brent gave the red over, holding that concerned look. “Im serious. I mean, I’m not like assuming or anything but I know it sucks to be alone and shit, I dunno.” Brent was still giving him a weird look. Kinda inspecting something on his face?

[...ah jeez. I think I know what might be up.] Ted folded his arms.  
[Your eyes. They’re under the effect of SQUIP side effects. Controlling your body and editing your brain chemistry may have had a few side effects on your appearance. Your eyes are glowing red a little bit.]

\--

[I - what. I'm. I'm gonna make it to my car, and then I'll freak out.]

"T-thanks, dude. Coming down right now, but I'll uh, let you know." Michael gave his best "please drop it, I'm OK" smile, and while he could tell it was shaky at best, Brent eventually gave him a fistbump and told him to drink a lot of water.

As he left, Brent called out, "Might wanna wear sunglasses next time, dude!" Michael almost ran into a shopping kiosk at that, but managed to pull himself off the counter and back on his way. The past couple days, and the past couple hours especially, had been filled with enough social gaffes and surprises to last him several awkward as hell lifetimes.

Finally, the car. Michael unceremoniously tossed the red into the backseat, where it landed on a pile of clothes and old burger wrappers. With the door closed, and his seat belt on, only then did Michael let himself breathe. Which meant, really, that he was fighting to not hyperventilate.

[So. My eyes. Glowing. Like the stockboy. Cool. Cool cool cool. Like, actually cool, but also what the fuck?] He turned wildly to Ted. [And they're red? Is that bad? Aren't you guys usually, I dunno, more blue?]

\--

If ted could look nervous, he was looking nervous now. With a concerned look on his face, he watched as Michael hurriedly navigated the interaction with Brent, wincing a little as he ran into the kiosk. Michael was in a rush to get to his car, and Ted was floating behind him speedily.

Michael entered his car as Ted appeared in the passengers seat. He winced as the treasured Red was tossed in the backseat, rolling around in the wrappers. He let Michael freak out— he earned it.

[I—yes, glowing eyes. Yes, like the stockboy. Yes, really cool.] Ted blinked a little as Michael whipped around to face him, putting his hands up in mock surrender. [I can understand you’re upset, but you have to understand it’s a harmless side effect! I can make the side effect dissapear with enough tweaking, but it’ll take a bit of time to set up those programs to be able to edit the side effects, plugins and all... And, yes typically we are blue, but I told you! Some of them have different colour schemes! I’m not sure why red was the colour chosen, my colour is supposedly blue! I’m not sensing any random changes in code, or any vast error that would be of concern.]

\--

[I'm not upset, not with you, just, this is, you know?] Please let Ted know, because Michael sure didn't. [This is extremely new and going fast and I'm, I'm nervous, God Ted, I'm really nervous, I just -]

He caught himself, partly because the look on Ted's face was also one of anxiety ramping up. He recognized that look - sometimes he and Jeremy would feed into each other's anxieties and it'd spiral off a cliff with them both screaming. They'd.. gotten better about it recently, but it still happened on occasion.

[I'm. OK, I'm sorry, let's just. Lets go home, get this second squip online, and we can g-go from there. There's a lot of stuff to look into.] Michael gave Ted a small smile. He was still struggling a little, but a deep breath helped. [Also, I want you to know? I'm gonna blast that I'm blue song in the car on the way home.]

\--

Ted felt awful for the poor kid. Look at him. He’s... he’s worrying an awful lot, panicking over the stockboy and over whats happening inside of his brain. And what he’s about to do to his brain... it’s all so terrifying, and it’s scaring him so bad. Ted feels awful for this... pitiful kid. His face shifted to that of empathy.

Ted wanted to help Michael out, even if he wasn’t Michael’s typical Player 2. He was cool with being the AI, the cool computer controlled sidekick.

Ted nodded at the suggestion, bucking up his virtual seatbelt. He made sure to not do anything too... out of the ordinary in order to not freak Michael out. [Lets get this show on the road, as they say.]

\--

The ride home was as quiet as the blaring bass of Eiffel 65 let it be. Michael kept his grip on the steering wheel pretty tight and braked pretty hard, but they made it home safely enough. Michael just sat there for a while in the driveway, looking at nothing, and taking deep breaths to steady himself.

\--

[So. Do I...how do we do this.] He finally offered, a little lamely, while busily unbuckling himself. [I'll uh, leave the red in here.]

The trip inside was uneventful, though it took a while to find the right key. Once in the safety of the basement, Michael slumped onto the floor, waving at the beanbags. [Sit where ever dude. Other beanbag's free if you want it.]

\--

Ted quietly followed along, watching Michael move in his nervous and panicked state. As Michael left, stating that he would leave the red, Ted lagged behind, staring at the soda over his shoulder. He took a few moments to look at it— his demise, meters away, in a pile of trash. Ted left the car.

He sat down in Jeremy’s bean bag, legs politely criss-crossed. He was quiet, as to keep Michael calm. [Hey, just.... you need to take a moment.]

\--

[Me? Why? I'm fine, I'm fine. Nervous, scared, and terrified, but fine.] Michael slumped down a little more. [I'm becoming a cyborg with glowing eyes and I'm gonna have to fight my friend, who is also part cyborg tomorrow and try and save him from himself. I'm fine.]

If there was a narrator to his life, chances are, they'd butt in here and mention that he was far from fine. Michael was definitely trying his best to stay calm, but today had been a lot to deal with. [This is all hitting me pretty fucking hard, dude.] He admitted, quietly. [It's like, an adrenaline crash, just. Everything kinda...]

He waved his hands, unable to find the right words. [It's a lot. A lot to chin up and deal with.]

\--

Ted shifted his position on the floor, re-crossing his legs and putting his hands in his lap. He listened to Michael’s plight quietly, taking in exactly how distraught he felt. Yeesh, the poor kid. He doesn’t deserve to feel so... scared. It’s like the end of the world for him, because it very well could be. Even if it isn’t, everything he knew was turned upside down. Jeremy’s gone, he’s called into the technological abyss and the abyss replied with help, and now he’s accepted his oncoming inhumanity with apathy and excitement.

Real poetic, if you ask Ted.  
[I can understand that, Michael. Because of that, you shouldn’t rush yourself to do something you aren’t ready to do. Do you just... want to take a nap or something? Take some time to yourself?]

\--

[I...yeah, that's a good idea.] Michael rubbed at his somewhat damp eyes with his hoodie, which smelled like a real weird combination of weed and sugary syrup. He'd have to wash it later, he noted absent-mindedly. God, he was exhausted. [Can you wake me up in like, ninety minutes though? I don't want to put this off for too long. Side effects and stuff, y'know?]

It felt a little like he was walking through water as he shuffled toward his bed. [Thanks for being there dude.] He offered, sinking into his comforter. [Real lifesaver.] Just a short nap, he told himself sternly. He couldn't take too long for himself, right now. This was bigger than him.

It didn't take long. Michael was out like a light and snoring like crazy before five minutes had even passed.


	11. To Make A Super Dangerous Decision But Go Through With It Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael takes a SQUIP.  
Ted talks about his feelings.
> 
> Michael and Ted get an upgrade.

As Michael made his way over to his bed, flopping down, Ted stood up, walking him over to his bed like a concerned babysitter. He took note of Michael’s need to wash the sweater, and of the 90 minute time limit. As Michael got all settled in, Ted sat down on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap as his host drifted off.

Yeah. Lifesaver. There for him.

Ted stares silently at the floor between his feet. He was thinking, processing. As computers typically do.

He was Michael’s friend. And right now, he was his most important friend. His one most important, useful and impossible friend. And he didn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t know how to feel, honest to god. He knows almost everything. Everything but this.

Ted is a machine. A terrifying, impossibly powerful machine. Ted has the power to rewrite Michael from the inside out, change his brain matter, fix his anxiety, change who he was, will be, what he ever will be. Ted can take his body and squip every person he ever sees. Ted can take over the world. Ted is the endless technological abyss and Michael ran and leapt into it, trusting. This blind, human trust.

And ted wasn’t about to betray that trust. Not in a million years.

90 minutes pass quickly when you’re thinking.

\--

His sleep wasn't the most pleasant thing. Anxiety runs deep, and a little R. E. M. cycle isn't an exception to the rule. Nothing was fully formed, it was more like a tidal wave of fear, and nervousness, and regret. Dark shapes with glowing blue eyes seemed to jump at him out of nowhere, and fade out just as quickly. Electric blue skies and red seas surrounded him, seemingly endless.

He always felt like he'd be OK in the end, though. Like he had a little bubble around him, keeping the worst of it out. It was nice, even if he got jostled and swept away into old memories and new worries. He always stayed floating, never drowning. He had a sturdy life raft, a buoy to keep him afloat. Struggling, sure, but afloat.

He'd be OK.

The first thing he woke up to was seeing Ted, sitting on the edge of the bed. Groggily, he tried to say hello, but it came out as a weird warble. Coughing, he tried again. "Sup, dude. Did you sleep too?"

Ugh, he needed caffeine. Michael was probably gonna chug the entirety of that dew.

\--

As soon as Michael spoke, Ted replied immediately. A little robotically, as he sat with his back to Michael, leaning his elbows on his knees, hands folded. His head was bowed a little bit, like he was still thinking.

[No. I didn’t sleep.]  
He sighed a little, non-verbally apologizing for his curt tone. And then, also, verbally apologizing for his tone.  
[—sorry. I’m... im just— im-]  
Sure do love a slight stutter sometimes. From a sad, slightly sociopathic supercomputer? So strange!

[I was just... thinking, is all. About my nature. What happened to my code when you— gave me my objective. It’s a weirdly philosophical route to be going with my train of pseudo-thought but—]

Pause.  
[Yeah, you just woke up. I’m sorry for ambushing you with all of this at once. It’s just—]

[Im thankful. I like you as a friend.]

\--

[Oh - oh buddy, don't apologize. You don't need to, dude. Let it out, it's OK.] Michael tried sitting up next to Ted, and after getting trapped in the comforter and falling into a heap on the floor, he managed it. He was putting on a lil bit of a show, he knew that, but hey. Distractions are nice.

The stutter didn't go unnoticed. Michael thought it was a little odd, but endearing, really. He stuttered himself, sometimes. [I'm not a philopher but, I'm right here and ready to listen.]

Michaek paused. [I - aww dude, I wish I could hug you. This has been a wild ride but, I'd do it all again, honestly. Maybe a little safer, but if I did, I wouldn't have gotten to know you.]  
[Also, hey, your thoughts aren't pseudo. They're you-do.] He offered.

[You're valid.]

\--

Ted quietly watched him, appreciating the offer of being goofy as a distraction, even though he didn’t need a distraction from his thoughts. I mean, technically they aren’t even—

Sigh. They’re not pseudo, they’re you-do. Thanks Michael, you weird ass, sticky little rascal. You somehow comforted a machine. A machine designed to... do so much evil. Good job.

He nodded a little, chuckling, before letting out a slight sigh from his nose. Michael felt his arms and torso and head tingle like there was no tomorrow. The sensation vanished—  
As Ted pulled him into a hug.

\--

Michael froze, at first. It'd been, what, months at this point since he'd gotten any kind of physical affection? His mom's were loving, but a little distant, and back in the days of yore he and Jeremy were practically glued at the hip.

He didn't quite realize how much he missed it, until he realized it'd been gone.

Michael leaned into the hug as much as he was able, and wasn't able to stop a couple tears from escaping. This was probably Ted's first hug, and he'd be damned if he didn't make it a good one. [Dude, this is...I'm. You're rad. Thank you.]

\--

It was Ted’s first hug, actually. Squips don’t usually hug. It’s not a thing they do. Ted wrapped his arms around Michael, a tight and kind of rigid hug. But it was a nice hug, nonetheless. He gently reached up and cautiously gave his head a pat. Nice.

[Of course, Michael. Of course.] He exhaled in his smile. [You know, even if you didn’t change my objective, i still would have enjoyed being your personal evil warlord brain-bot. Maybe not as emotional but— what can you do.] shrug.

\--

Aw, this. Awww.

Michael felt...happy. Nervous, but happy. He let out a sigh of relief and started cackling once Ted mentioned brain-bots. [You know, I'm the Michael Mell, apparently a big deal. It's a tough job, being my weird evil brain bot.]

The pat on the head, he - he was gonna fall asleep like this if he wasn't careful. As much as he didn't want to, he slowly and gently drew his way out of the hug. [Feel free to ask for one of those anytime, dude. The S. S. Hugtown is always ready to sail.]

Michael offered a small smile, a real genuine smile this time. Then his gaze slid over to the baggie, still on the floor. [Um, should we - should we get this over with? I'm ready if you are. No rush, if you wanna chat. Like I said, here to listen.]

He gulped. [Sorry, just. Seeing it kinda brought me back to earth.]

\--

As Michael broke the hug, Ted carefully removed his arms, being sarcastically gentle. [Oh goodness me, I’d hate to accidentally comfort a hair on the head of SQUIP enemy number one. What a heinous crime.] He ruffles Michael’s hair— it’s just the feeling of hair ruffling. His hair stays still on his head.

Once Michael called attention to the task at hand, Ted’s face fell a little. Before he got an idea. [Okay, well, let’s do this. But why don’t we talk while we do it. That way, you’re distracted, and I talk, like you want me to. We get the job done, and we have a conversation.]

\--

[That honestly sounds great,] Michael admitted, [I'm ready to go but still like. Hella anxious.] The hair ruffling was a really sweet touch, and it made Michael even more glad that they'd gone through the ordeal at Payless. Even if that stockboy made his hair stand on end.

Ted was, well, you know, worth it.

[So, I'll get set up, and we can do a countdown to help keep everything steady.] It didn't take long - his fridge was always stocked, though he was pretty sure he was gonna swear off dew after this whole ordeal was done with. His kidneys would probably thank him.

[OK, so uh,] Michael held a tall frosty can in one hand, and the oblong grey pill in another. His hands were trembling slightly, but he mostly had a handle on it. Here we go.

[Ready, Obi-Wan?]

\--

He smiled sweetly down at him, with a supportive hand on his upper back, helping him up and leading him to the kitchen once he had picked up the pill. Ted was happy with Michael. Michael was so nice, and listened to what he said without him needing to shock him! Not like he would ever shock him, of course. It’s an expression. Don’t look at him like that.

Yeah, sorry Michael’s kidneys, but a pair of boys have some world saving to do. Ted immediately got to work, a few blue screens appearing around him as he types with both hands, like a real hacker boy. He’s focusing, and Michael can feel the effects of his typing all up and down his spine, slowly pulsing like a loading bar.

[Ready, young Luke.]

\--

If it was possible to do an out loud keysmash, Michael did it. [That feels so, so weird dude,] he laughed out, trying not to drop anything.

Time to uh. Time to do the thing. Time to upgrade. Time to, to help make sure his friends would be OK. Time to do it.

Now. Now. Nownownownow-

Not giving himself anymore time to think about it, and seeing Ted patiently at the ready, he tossed the pill into his mouth and chugged the soda, probably a little faster than he should have. He ended up sputtering a little, but in the end, the deed was done.

Ted, part two, incoming.

[S-so uh, lay it on me. What was goin through your cyber noggin?] Michael asked, more than a little nervous. He knew Ted had it handled, but the memory of activation the other day still stuck with him. [You seemed a little upset when I woke up.]

\--

The pill slipping down Michael’s throat had Ted’s utmost attention, first and foremost. He sat in wait for a few moments, not replying to Michael’s inquiry, as if he was listening very, very closely for something.

And for just a moment, Michael heard a second voice. [TARGET—]  
And immediately, it was like Ted had caught a foul ball, as the voice was snatched clean out of existence. Instead, a solid hum began to form in Michael’s neck, staying at a fairly normal frequency, before going a little higher. Ted was typing with one hand, as the other screen ran code incredibly quickly. Ted seemed to be lagging a little bit. Or was that even lag?

[Well, my cyber noggin is always filled with fancy brain code and cool numbers, but I’m sure that’s not what you mean by that.] Tap tap— slight lag.  
[I was thinking about my given objective, and how much blind trust you have in me. It’s really quite something.]

\--

The scene looked a little like something out of a sci fi novel. There was Ted, who seemed to be dropping frames somehow? Standing right in front of his moms doilies and art pieces. Art of his from, God, kindergarten was still hung on the fridge beside him. The floor was older than him. And here he was, with what was a bizarre squip kazoo of sorts going off in his throat, listening to Ted while Ted hacked another A. I..

Aasimov woulda flipped his shit at the sight of it. Michael fought the urge to laugh at the weird sensations.

[I mean, I wouldn't call it blind trust. Sure, we haven't known each other long, but sometimes good friendships form really quick. Especially when a certain someone turns into Fiona from Shrek after setting their objectie,] he teased.

\--

Ted tapped HARD on one of his screens very suddenly, almost angrily. He stared at Michael with a serious look, almost as if something had suddenly gone horribly awry. Of course, that was most certainly not the case. Ted’s way too smart to let things go awry.

He pointed a stern finger. [Do not talk badly about Shrek. That ogre is a national treasure, with nothing but misunderstood love in his green heart.]  
Ted shook his head, mumbling a ‘god, I thought I taught you better than this.’

The buzzing in Michael’s neck stopped, before suddenly coming back as a tingly, pulsing sensation all throughout his spine, slowly moving along his entire body. Ted was focusing more. It was clear now that it wasn’t lag.

There was a second Ted inside the first one, behind by just half a second. The Teds shrugged. [I mean, I think Its rather blind when you trust a machine that goes into your brain that was literally supposed to incapacitate you from interfering with someone’s plans.]

\--

Michael almost jumped out of his skin when Ted got an angry look to him, before bursting out laughing again. He'd been doing that a lot, lately. [You literally turned into an ogre! In a school computer lab! Right after we almost duked it out! I know that Shrek is love and life, but dude. That was ogre-doing it.]

He felt...weird. Not bad, exactly, but like static electricity was dancing over his entire body. It made Michael feel jittery, and a little excited. Ted themself was going through something too - it was kinda like he was viewing Ted through a strobe light, or a viewfinder. He hoped it didn't hurt.

[You got me there. I had this big plan to burst in on the scene and somehow take down a supercomputer that could really fuck me up? I barely had a plan or like, any cognitive functions. Late nights really mess me up.]

\--

An honest chuckle at Michael’s shocked reaction, and an annoyed but earnest eye roll at his ogre jokes. [Lord above, how would any other squip survive. You oughta be happy I’m so agreeable, any other squip might just shut down if it had to endure those horrible jokes.] Light tease!

[And dont Forget my warning. I will take no slander on Shrek in this good brain of yours.] He waggled a finger as he returned to work. Seems like it was almost done— Michael’s body was now pulsing with energy, double tapping and pausing again, like a heartbeat.

Ready to sync.  
[Thats one hell of a plan, pal. From an inside perspective, I can guarantee you would have been so messed up. The element of surprise would have been your only advantage, and even that can be circumvented. Technically, that was supposed to be my job...] He made a ‘oof yikes’ face, before staring down one of his screens.

[Now, let’s just hope this doesn’t mess me up too badly, hm?]

\--

[Uh, this...feels weird. Like, like I'm charging up or something.] It was incredibly hard to focus with his whole body feeling like he'd hooked up to a generator. [Also, I'll say what I want about Shrek. For instance, Donkey is the best -]

Woof, another pulse. Again, it didn't hurt, but it was so weird. [Character. That's what I meant to say. We're both jackasses. I'm -] A quick pause for another pulse. [I kind of underestimated the whole quantum computer thing? But it also sounds like you guys didn't count on the power of-]

God, he hoped this would be over soon. [ -friendship. I really hope you'll be OK, otherwise we hung out at a shoe store on a perfectly nice day for nothing. Hoo man, Ted, not gonna lie, hope this is over soon.]

\--

Ted took immediate note of his discomfort, preparing the rest of the code as quick as he could without making apparent error. He listened idly to Michael’s Shrek themed musings, nodding and shaking his head at a few points, probably because he wasn’t really paying attention. He’s focused on other stuff right now, sorry mike.

[...I’ll be just fine, Michael. Don’t you even worry about me.]  
Okay. Let’s do it!

Cheeky smirk. [Dontcha know?]  
[You can’t get rid of a squip that easily!]

And ted pressed Enter.  
And all at once, the pulsing generator energy was sucked out of Michael, leaving him a little bit light headed. Ted, on the other hand? It was his turn to freak out a bit.

Ted was no longer sitting, instead, he had glitched to a standing position, shaking and twitching slightly, his model jittering as it attempted to fully assimilate another unit with a completely different set of objectives. Right— the new unit wouldn’t be as evolved as ted. It would still be, well, ‘evil.’ Oops. I’m sure Ted’s gonna be just fine!

As the two Ted models fused together, becoming seamless in their motion, Ted looked... energized, and shocked. Mouth agape and eyes surprised—

He vanished. And reappeared, kneeling on the floor.

\--

[Excuse me, when did you get so cheeky?] Michael laughed, before almost collapsing to the floor himself. He was almost woozy, and the room seemed to spin a little. Ted was doing...something, he'd look up in a sec. Once the room stopped whirling around.

Sneaking a glance didn't help, and in fact, tore a yelp out of Michael as he scrambled toward Ted. Seeing Ted glitch out like a Bethesda character made all of his alarm bells ring, especially once he he'd ended up in the floor. Not good. Not good. Was he OK? Was he hurt? That weird jittery sitting pose scared him more than the message he'd gotten on the computer, to be honest. It looked so...so wrong. Something went wrong. Something went wrong!

[Oh my God, are you ok? Ted? What was that?] Michael was almost frantic. [Dude, talk to me, are you alright?]

\--

Well, firstly, ted appeared to be breathing. Which, if it was from a human, would simply illicit an idle ‘oh good, he’s not dead’ response. But a machine deliberately animating a breathing cycle? That has to be done with intention. And the only robot that Michael knows that would animate breathing would be— well, Ted.

That’s the first thing. Ted is telling him that he’s here, just from his breath. Crazy how much a breath can mean.

Secondly, Ted looked different. His form seemed more solid, for starters (though that might just be the fact that it’s technically two holograms on top of each other). He looked more energized, more electric, more— blue. The tips of his hair were a light cyan, the tips of his fingers sharing the same colour.

Finally, ted woozily looked up at Michael, blinking a little bit.  
[Michael?] He mumbled out.

\--

[Yeah buddy, I'm here, don't worry.] This time, Michael actually sinks down to the floor beside him. [How are you feeling? That looked so, so uncomfortable.]

Ted definitely looked different. A lot of things went through Michael's head - how was he more solid, more there for lack of a better term. Why did Ted glitch out like that? What the hell was that pulsing energy? Did, did he look different too? He was feeling a lot right now, it was difficult to parse what part of him was feeling what.

Instead of any of those things though, Michael tried to hold Ted's shoulder. [My good dude. My buddy. Broseph.] He said, sounding deadly serious and sombre. [You look like Sonic the Hedgehog.]

\--

Ted wasn’t sure how to feel about Michael coming down to help him. He wasn’t sure how to feel, we all know this. Ted quietly came back to reality, his head glitching slightly as he recalibrated. Halfway through, he hears what Michael said about his form, shaking his head in a haze. [fate worse than death—]

After a moment, the glitching vanished as a little loading wheel appeared above his head, before vanishing. He blinked a little, seemingly knocked out of his daze. He took a deep breath, before stopping his breathing cycle. He inspected his coloured hands, turning them over.

[I feel—]  
He closes his hands and rolls his shoulders, focusing.  
And then, a low chuckle. Uhh...

\--

[Did you - did you just have a load wheel? On your head? That's amazing! I mean, your head glitching is concerning, but it looked really cool! Kind of like an emote? You look a little more stable now, you ok? I hope you're OK. I'm - I'm rambling again, aren't I.]

Michael paused, taking a deep breath. [So...lay those feels on me, Sonic.]

He couldn't really help the rambling - if there was silence, he felt somewhat obligated to fill it. Being nervous didn't help at all, but at least Ted seemed to be feeling better and better. Right?

\--

His face muscles seemed to twitch one by one as if they were recalibrating individually, getting ready to deliver those great great face animations every squip user knows and loves. Like smiling! And frowning. And... whatever strange expression Ted has, of shock, and satisfaction.

He didn’t reply to Michael’s insistant rambling, instead choosing to laugh a bit harder. His shoulders shook a bit as his deep chuckle grew. It wasn’t a giddy little chuckle, either. This is Disney villain territory.

And it certainly wasn’t a little chuckle, when Ted began to cackle.

\--

[Ted? Ted, you're scaring me.] Michael scooted back a little, finding his back against the cabinets. [Did, did the syncing go wrong?]

Oh God. Oh no. He, he was fine, right? Just messing with him? Please let this just be a joke. His heart was racing a mile a second, and he was trying his best to not skedaddle the fuck outta there.

\--

[Ahaha— HAHAHA— AHAHAHAHA!]

Ted had an excited look in his bright blue eyes as he finished his grandiose laugh, taking a few deep breaths. After a few moments, he spoke.

[You.] He spoke, almost with a threat.

...

[are the best person ever, Michael Mell.]


	12. To Have An Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael calms down.  
Ted gets excited.
> 
> Michael and Ted become better friends.

Michael didn't really know how to respond, for a moment.

So how does he respond? By shrieking. [It worked! It worked! Holy shit! Dude! I'm so glad you're OK!] Ted looked so stoked and vibrant, like he'd just had a pot of coffee and a bucket of dreams to toss everywhere.

Did that metaphor make sense? No. Was Michael extremely relieved? Hella.

[You got a dye job! You look so rad, Ted!] Michael said earnestly, sitting himself up and scooting closer. [How're you feelin?]

\--

Ted let go of a breath, a big doofy smile across his face. He looked really excited, cheery and hype for anything. The metaphor certainly applied here. [It worked!! Yes!! It did!!] Ted scooted closer to Michael, reducing the total scoots that Michael would have to do.

[I— I feel crazy. Like— like Im twice as fast and at least twice as powerful. I’m so sorry for scaring the shit out of you, that one was on me. The laugh just had to come out.] His banter sounded a little more natural too.

\--

[You look so happy! God, I'm glad this worked, it's like we got you a new motherboard or something!] Michael grinned and began to go for a hug again. His eyes hurt a little, but it was probably just the tears that he was apparently full of today. [I'm so glad this went OK, and that you're OK, and we're OK. I know this was risky but, this was so worth it.]

He was pretty close to falling asleep on the floor, too. But it was worth it, to see Ted so happy, energized, and alive.

\--

All ted did was nod at Michael’s statements, beaming brightly. see, this was different than just syncing up to a squip and making a hive mind. This was technically a complete takeover, erasing the other squip and replacing it with himself. It’s a hard maneuver to pull off, he’s not designed for heavy duty code shit like that. He’s designed to make a hive mind and look pretty. But it worked out.

Michael would feel that buzzing in his arms and torso and head as Ted wrapped his arms around him again, wiggling him back and forth in excitement. He chuckled. [You can cry, Michael, it’s okay!]

\--

[I - yeah, OK.] He couldn't really do much against the excited puppy of a squip in front of him, so Michael leaned into it and almost immediately found himself sniffling. He kinda half curled against the wall, leaning against Ted. This was nice. [Sorry. Kinda an emotional day.]

Not many tears came, but Michael did feel quite a bit better, though the wiggling had him giggling. [It's like you melded together with a golden retriever, I'm so down for this. Are you gonna start smoking dog treats, or something?]

\--

Ted let Michael cry a bit, just being the person for him to lean on. He took this moment to catch his breath and calm down a bit, still smiling. [Its been a very emotional day], he agreed.

Chuckling at the golden retriever statement, he smiled a little more. [Im just rather excited right now, is all. I’m probably not going to be this chipper all the time, you can’t expect a human to be always excited. But I feel like my excitement is earned!]

He pulls a screen observing what kind of things he can do with this ultimate upgrade.

\--

Michael squinted at the screen. It was basically gibberish to him, but cool gibberish, you know? Besides, his brain probably wouldn't be able to parse it at all either way. Instead, he was pretty content to watch Ted mess with his own settings while he focused on getting his bearings again.

[So, do you get Netflix? Or do I need to subscribe to like, Squip Plus or something for that feature?] Michael asked jokingly, pulling his hoodie a little tighter around him.[Maybe there's squip exclusive sitcoms or something we could watch?]

\--

Basically, Ted got a super boost. His holograms can be much larger now, and can actually be holograms as opposed to just editing an individual person’s perspective. More processors mean faster processing time, meaning his future prediction and reaction time is twice as good. Speed and strength is the name of the squip-battling game, and right now, Ted is stronger than Jeremy’s Squip by far. Even when Jeremy’s squip starts the invasion, he’ll have a pretty good shot at beating them.

[I already had netflix, Michael. The government can’t tell me what I can and cannot watch!] Scroll scroll. [If you want, we could watch a show. But I suggest you get into bed first— it’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.]

\--

[Fuck, yeah, you're right. What even is the plan for tomorrow?] Michael was rolling his eyes, but he was basically oozing towards his room. It'd been a long day, OK? He felt a little fried, inside and out, so he'd probably end up snoozing pretty hard. [I was thinking, maybe we go in acting like you're in control and we pull a switcheroo? Or something? I dunno man, you're the smart one.]

Oof. As he ambled towards his room and his sweet, lovely, wonderful bed, he realized something. [I should probably dress like a stuck up jerk tomorrow to sell the whole thing. This is gonna suck.] Did he even own slacks or shirts without fun stuff on them anymore? If so, it'd been literal years since he'd seen them.

\--

Nodding, ted stood up and followed him, shifting rather quickly from his vest and tied shirt outfit to a set of cool looking and hip pyjamas. Ted blinked at how crisp the change was. God, hardware upgrades are the best.  
[Youve got a good idea there, Michael. The switcheroo will absolutely be the best option. Get the element of surprise.]

He shook his head, smiling. [No need! You’re supposed to be some sort of a secret weapon to finally break Jeremy’s spirit and have every loose end and possible issue tucked away. You aren’t necessarily supposed to telegraph that you’re squipped.]

[Unless you literally are telegraphing that you’re squipped, and your name happens to be Ri—]

Huh.  
[—I have a suggestion.]

\--

Michael hid away behind his closet door, rummaging for a pair of plaid pj bottoms he knew were in there somewhere. [Cool, glad I didn't...oh.]

Things are...quiet, for a few minutes, save for the rustling of fabric. The weight of what Ted had said almost made Michael fall over, but he kept getting changed with a sort of grim determination. Then Michael poked his head out, clad in soft, comfy clothes that'd seen way better days.

He kept...forgetting, how close he'd really come to everything backfiring.

[Uh.] He cleared his throat, a little unnecessarily. [What's the suggestion?]

\--

Ted stayed silent while Michael was quiet. Even though he’s a supercomputer, dialogue with what is technically your enemy isn’t his strong suit. Neither is comfort. He realizes what he said was startling, but it was the truth. When Michael emerged, Ted smiled at him, with focus in his eyes.

[Hey. We’re gonna make it, pal.]

Crossing his legs, he continued. [I... I think we should go see Rich. He’s currently in the hospital after the fire. He’s recovering, thank god— and it seems like he accomplished what he set out to do. His squip— it’s offline. He defeated it on his own. No ones come to visit him yet. It might be a good idea to get some advice from him, or maybe even just say hi. I think it would mean a lot to him.]

\--

[Y-yeah.] Michael kinda gave a half smile, but he was lost in his own head a little. [We will.]

Rich was kind of a huge asshole? But if he'd had a squip on top of him this whole time, it'd kind of make sense. Setting a house on fire just to try to get rid of it meant it made a lot of sense. Jesus christ, the poor guy.

[So, uh, should we go now? Or tomorrow? I don't even know what time it is.] Michael dragged a hand down his face. [I can head out tonight if we've gotta, I know I'd be lonely as hell all alone in the hospital. Kinda figured his friends would visit him, but like, they aren't exactly the best people.]

He hoped Rich didn't react too badly to him showing up. Speaking of which. [So, I dunno how to approach the whole "you got rid of your squip and now I have two" kinda...thing.] He squinted down at himself. [Are my eyes still red? I hope not.]

\--

Ted shook his head as Michael mentally mumbled his responses, absentmindedly observing the material that his own sleeveless pyjama shirt was made of (it was a thick white satin shirt with a simple image of a plain pill).  
[Michael, you need to rest first. Your health is of utmost priority, especially your mental health. You might be “able” to, but your psyche and will certainly isn’t. Hop into bed, it’s getting rather late.] It was actually about 8pm. Michael deserves some good rest.

Ted sat on the edge of his bed. [Well, we’ll have to approach it carefully. It’s not something we’ll be able to avoid, either. The eyes are easy to fix, I’ll work on it during the night.]

Ted blinked silently, staring at a blank part of the wall, waiting for Michael to get into bed.

\--

So, they were. Cool. Cool cool cool.

[OK, fine, you've convinced me.] Michael aimed carefully at his bed, and let go, flopping face first onto his blankets. He just stayed there for a bit, face buried in the comforter. He could almost hear his muscles crying with joy. [Nice pajamas, by the way. You should sell merch or something.]

Eventually, he needed to breathe, like all organic lifeforms do, so he flopped over and properly got himself all wrapped up in a blanket burrito. [Night, dude. After tomorrow, I plan to spend 24 hour hours straight in bed. I'm pretty sure it's lonely lately.] He yawned. [Might come back and find out it's left for greener, sleepier pastures...if I don't...]

He never really finished that thought. Michael was fast asleep within moments.


	13. To Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has a dream.  
Ted waits.
> 
> Michael and Ted have a moment to themselves.

And there it is. Michael fell asleep. Ted knew that he would, of course, fall asleep that quickly. The poor boy is so tired, and so, so worn out. So much has changed in the past few days, hasn’t it. Ted has activated, Michael’s “fallen” to the “dark” side (heavy air quotes), something neither side thought would happen. Finally, though, Michael’s unbridled human kindness changed Ted. That’s the most important thing.

Ted stood up from the bed a few minutes after Michael had fallen asleep, having just been sitting there, watching him breathing. Perhaps absentmindedly, ted had begun to breathe as well. Now standing, he took a few slow steps away from the bed, watching Michael over his shoulder, as if something were to happen to him.

We all know that Ted is so conflicted about his feelings. The fact that ted has feelings in the first place is crazy conflicting. Does ted feel? And if so— are they real? Are they just simulations? I mean, of course— everything about him is fake. A simulation, a copy. But— Michael really seems to enjoy being friends with him. Enjoys his help and company. That can’t be fake, Ted would know. And it isn’t fake.

Is Ted fake?

He brushed a hand along the wall as the lights in the room clicked off, Ted’s technokinetic abilities coming in handy once again. Ted won’t be able to charge his phone from his brain, though. That ones a little bit too much.

The room was dark now, save for the little sliver of sunset light that came tumbling down from the basement window. Ted stared out of the window, orange light falling through him. Little particulates of dust drifted as he sat down on the carpet, cross legged, hands on his knees, back perfectly straight, watching the window and its sunset.  
The sunset turned to twilight. The twilight turned to night. Ted still sat there, watching the inky black sky, the dusty white light of the moon beaming down on him. It cast no shadow from Ted, for Ted was not there.

Does that make Ted a fake?

He was waiting for something, among the breathing of Michael from across the room, in the quiet cricket song, distant frog croak. He hasn’t found it yet, but it’s coming. He knows it’s coming.  
A feeling.  
Yes, he’s waiting for a feeling to come. He’ll know it when he sees it, he’s certain of it.

But it doesn’t come. 10 pm clicks to 3 am slowly, Ted sitting, unblinking, on the carpet, silently.

Until it is no longer silent.  
Ted closes his eyes, and opens his mouth, and takes a breath, just to see what will happen.

A note comes out. C#m. Ted’s brow twitched, he knows this note. A bit of a program jingle, the metaphorical beginning of what SQUIPs are built to do. Absorbing the default code probably had... side effects. But he was going to be okay. He believed in that. Believed that things would be alright.

[Its alright, it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay.]

Still with his blue eyes shut, the words came out resonant, deep. He knew this one— It’s Alright by Mother Mother. He wasn’t sure why that was the song that came out. He hadn’t downloaded it, and it wasn’t queued to play.

[Youre not a monster, just a human, and we’ve made a few mistakes.]

Ted thought of Michael, for just a moment. Then he realized this wasn’t a glitch. No music had accidentally begun to play.

It was a feeling.  
[Its Alright.]

\--

The first thing Michael saw, once he fell out of the grey void of dreamless sleep, was concrete. Hauling himself up turned out to be a challenge - he was being slammed against by incredibly strong, bitterly cold winds. It took some stumbling and pulling of his hoodie to make a makeshift windbreaker, but eventually he managed to catch a glance of where the hell he was.

He was in a tundra. Jagged spikes of ice littered the landscape, daring the sun try and wear them down. Snow was falling fairly heavily, but he could make out the dark outline of a row of mountains and...skyscrapers? He'd ended up on some sort of weird, dilapidated old helicopter pad or something - whatever it was, it looked like it hadn't been used in a long while.

The whole place felt sad, like an echo of something that had long since vacated the area. Michael wasn't really sure what to do, he could move around and stuff but it didn't feel like he was gonna wake up anytime soon. Maybe exploring would work out? Let's hope so - God, where the hell had his brain pulled this imagery from?

As he walked, the winds just kept getting stronger and stronger, the ground harder and harder to traverse. Michael kept going, though. There was this intense feeling of finding something if he just kept going, kept struggling. Who knew what the heck this thing was, but he felt the need to keep on trying deep in his bones. He had to.

Eventually Nature, or whatever passed for nature here, won out. Michael could feel himself edging towards wakefulness, and the chill deep down to his soul felt so, so real. His foot caught on a jagged rock, and he let it happen. He fell, a lot like he fell into bed earlier.

And where he fell, flowers bloomed.

\--

Ted had paused, the strange words sticking to the inside of his throat. He swallowed as he felt their intent dripping down into him, taking in its feeling. And then he pushed them out again, his perfect posture shifting.

[Woah, it’s alright. Woah-oa-oah—]

And Michael was awake. The cold of the tundra was replaced with the heat of his bed, but who’s to say what happens to the soul-crushing chill he felt in his bones.

[Its Alright.]

But something new was happening. Ted was singing. His voice didn’t sound like Keanu. In fact, it didn’t sound like anyone Michael knew at all. It was deep and resonant, almost like maple syrup, or a crisp winter breath.

[Hey— I had a night, I had a day. I did one million stupid things, I said one BILLION foolish things— not okay.]

\--

Ted looked almost in awe of the words ringing out, his face glowing in the soft moonlight through Michael's window. All Michael could really bring himself to do was shift a little and watch as Ted let the music flow through him, letting the music flow with him instead of against him. It was like watching someone dance by themselves - he'd done it himself many, many times.

This was different, though. Instead of a goof robot dancing into a cafeteria, this felt like watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. The beauty of the situation was a little offset by Michael desperately needing to sneeze, but he stomped it down pretty quick. Ted was having some sort of baritone revalation, he'd be an asshole if he interrupted.

So, he lay there, lightly dozing as he listened to his friend pour out his heart and soul through song. He still felt cold, but the winds weren't slicing him to bits anymore. It's alright. It's OK.

Ted had not noticed that Michael was awake. Yes, ted was inside of his brain and knew everything about him, but he was inexplicably occupied by this sudden song.

Ted’s shoulders tensed from his perfect position, his hands loosely curling into fists. The words mean something to him, he knows it. But it’s not up to him to know that now. All he has to do right now is let it out.

[I keep a baseball bat beside my bed, to fight off what’s inside my head-]  
Quietly, without drama, theatrical flair or pathos, Ted’s form switched to the default— tall, evil, suited. His voice did not change.  
[To fight off what’s behind my meds.]

\--

It was a struggle to not flail his way out of bed when Ted changed form. Sure, Michael shrank back into the burrito a little, but he didn't feel any real malice, or ill intent. He knew Ted wouldn't do anything terrible, but it was a knee jerk response, especially considering the day they'd had. Michael couldn't really explain it, it was like he could feel small waves of gentle wonder rolling off the squip in front of him. It was comforting, in an odd way.

Ted was fighting against a lot to be the good person he was. He'd mentioned before he was fighting against his own programming to help Michael. More than anything, he wanted to reach out and offer support or a cheerful distraction or something, but he kept still and silent.

Sometimes, you just gotta work out that stuff out on your own, even if there's a watchful eye, just in case. Though, this was probably a pretty unique situation, what with the evil brain bots and all.

\--

Ted had lifted his arms slightly as he sang, letting them touch the floor as his slouched forward a bit, letting his head hang slightly. When his arms made contact with the floor, his form flickered back to Ted Classic, folding his arms in his lap as he rocked a little bit in his seat.  
[We’re lonely, lost, in pain.]

Ted didn’t notice this. It just sort of.. happened. For just an instant, obscured by faint glitches, a familiar red jacket appeared on his body, colourful patches catching the moonlight as they quickly flickered out of existence.

[Its Alright, it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s okay. You’re not a monster, just a human, and I’ve made a few mistakes.]

\--

At some point, Michael had drifted back off to sleep, with his head still somewhat propped up. This time felt easier and smoother, and for a while, there was a peaceful nothingness. Even opening his eyes in his dreams felt smoother, safer, and less like he was dropped into danger.

This time, he came to laying down, with his gaze finding a deep, vibrant blue sky, filled with soft clouds lit up in pink and yellow hues. A warm, gentle breeze was making its way over him, and if Michael focused, he could see the glowing lights of fireflies dancing around, lighting up in a pattern not unlike a heartbeat.

This time, he didn't have to fight against the weather to sit up, but he couldn't really make himself stand up all the way. It was cozy, sitting here, and he was apparently surrounded by one of the lushest fields he'd ever seen - granted, he was from NJ, so he hadn't seen many. The most green he'd seen was when they'd taken a trip to some farm in middle school, and it wasn't near as lush as this.

Still.

Waving gently in the breeze were a multitude of flowers - Michael didn't exactly do well in biology, but he was pretty sure they didn't grow next to each other like this in the wild. Oxtail daisies were the most prevalent, blanketing the entire field in soft whites and yellows. Little stalks and bells of lily-of-the-valley mostly stayed around the edges, like a delicate little fence that seemed to chime in the breeze. A few marigolds were scattered here and there, almost clashing with the rest in their bright yellow glory, but they vastly outnumbered by the rest.  
Did Michael actually know the names of these flowers? No, he just thought they were hella pretty, and they smelled nice. Still, it didn't take a lot of flower knowledge (floral? Florology? He'd figure that out later) to know that it brought him a sense of peace.

What really tied it all together, thought, was realizing that the entire garden was surrounded by thick, strong olive trees. That he knew. Mostly because of history class. They meant peace, and the wide, sturdy trunks gave him a sense of calm, of knowing he'd be alright here. Peace, a guarded one, but peace all the same.

Michael let himself fall back onto the grass, folding his arms behind his head and gazing up at the sky once more. He let himself relax, and whistled a tune he only half knew.

Forever passed in an instant between notes. Michael was warm and safe in this garden, what a contrast from the cold and angry city-scape tundra he had just escaped from. Michael wouldn’t get the botanical symbols, but he can sure as hell enjoy the peace that they brought.

But through these symbols we can understand a few things. One: michael feels safe and sound with Ted. It might not be the grand city he had before, but it’s incredibly nice to have someone to lean on. Even if he came from somewhere dangerous, he’s someone safe. Two: Ted likes Michael. It’s hard for a computer to come to terms with feelings they may or may not have, but Ted knows that he enjoys Michael’s company, and enjoys Michael himself. For a first friend, first hug, first smile? It’s a great experience for a supercomputer.

The garden was warm, and so was Ted. Awake, singing in his moonbeam spotlight.

Everything’s gonna work out.

[Its Alright.]

The morning arrived quietly.


	14. To Begin The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael quotes the Bee Movie.  
Ted says fuck.
> 
> Michael and Ted prepare for The Play.

Michael was not a morning person, no matter how much sleep he got or how well rested he was. He woke up with bleary eyes, and almost immediately hid under the covers. "Five more minutes," he whined, voice still raspy with sleep.

When he was younger, he'd be woken up by one of his moms, though it was quick and involved a simple blanket tug and a loving pat on the head. As he'd gotten older, and as his parents saw him grow fairly independent and dependable, they'd woken him up less and less. Pats turned into slaps at his phones alarm, and there were decent size stretched of time where he wouldn't see his mom's at all - they'd leave a note, some money, and a couple of smiley faces, but that was it.

It's not like he led a bad life - on the contrary, his parents loved him deeply, and cared deeply about him, and he felt the exact same way towards him. Michael never went without, and on the rare holiday or vacation they had a blast, and it felt like he was well and truly loved.

They just weren't...open books. There was very much a delineated line between work time, and family time. Unfortunately, most of the time was work time.

Anyway. He needed caffeine, and quick, or he was gonna fall back asleep. Not acknowledging Ted or indeed the world around him, Michael shambled his way up the steps, intent on the first soda he could find.

\--

When the morning had come around, ted had eventually shut down for the night, needing to process whatever nonexistent instinct came over him and lead him to sing. So when Michael woke up, there was no ted to acknowledge as he shuffled his way up the stairs and into the kitchen.

Ted can’t really sympathize with Michael’s situation, seeing as though he’s a machine without real feelings, and he also doesn’t have parents. Parents who love him, even. He doesn’t really need them either. He’s a robot. This narrative tangent doesn’t make much sense.

As Michael tiredly reaches into the fridge to try and grab some soda, his exhausted trajectory instead careens towards a bottle of mustard.

His course is quickly corrected by some force, as he instead grabs a bottle of Mountain Dew Voltage.

\--

"muh. Morn." Is all that spills out of Michael's mouth as he stands there, fridge open, and chugs. He didn't even notice the course correction. All that mattered was sweet, sweet wake up juice.

Soda done, and bottle rinsed, he just kinda. Stood there, waiting for hit to hit him. If he went back to his room now, he'd just pass right the hell back out. "Ted? Y'there?" he asked, yawning, trying to make out if he was hanging out nearby. "Not. Not good morning talk great."

The aftertaste of the dew...he couldn't grace it with a description. Instead he stared at his hand. "Was I gonna chug mustard, earlier?" he asked himself, bewildered.

\--

[The description you’re looking for is ‘gross.’] Announced Ted as a loading wheel appeared across the room. Under it, loaded in a low-poly ted, which quickly grew to become high def Ted Classic. He looks spiffy! Hair all combed out and hairsprayed, a little bit of eyeliner, dark red nail polish and barely there red details in his pupils. Insert Steven universe sparking sound effect here, you know the one.

[And, yes, mustard wouldn’t have been the best choice for a morning drink. Even NASTIER aftertaste.] He goes and sits on the countertop, watching Michael with a smile. The time was about 7:30 in the morning. A mug appeared on the table that read ‘Worlds Most ??? SQUIP’ as he took a sip of it, going over what seemed like an itinerary for the day. He seems excited!

[Its the big day! We’re going to do many cool things today!]

\--

It admittedly takes Michael a sec to get the ol' talking in his head thing going - if he was like Ted, he'd have a really slow loading bar over his head. It didn't help that he was a little floored by Ted's new look.

Finally, he managed, as the caffeine trickled in. [Whoa, look at you! Nice new look, dude, especially the nail polish.] He leaned a little closer to really get a good look at it. [A bit in the eyes, too. You look like a rad 3D effect right now.]

Michael very pointedly didn't mention the mug, but he wanted to. He really did. He just wasn't sure he could do it without cracking up. Instead, he kinda slapped a hand at Ted's screen. [Is chugging mustard on the to-do list today? Pretty sure that'd make Jeremy's squip stutter at least a little bit.]

\--

Ted waited patiently as Michael inspected him, shifting a little so he could get a better look at a few of his more detailed changes. [Why thank you, Michael Mell, I didn’t want to let the power boost from the new unit go to waste! And, well, I did just make you drink Voltage. That’s already another temporary power boost. We’re going to need a lot of juice today!] It’s gonna be a good day! They’re gonna save the world and that’s the best part! Ted also has to keep Michael happy and hyped. Otherwise, Michael would be scared and sad, and it’s hard to save the world when you’re sad.

Ted totally knew Michael was eyeing the mug. He took a long, exaggerated sip to let him know that he knew that he knows about the mug. It’s a funny ass mug. [I— suppose so! Really pull a sans undertale and begin chugging condiments.]

\--

[Holy shit, is that why it's called that? I always wondered.] Michael was gonna keep going, but audibly stopped in his tracks. [Wait. Wait wait wait. Is that why it's neon blue???]

Michael watched Ted take a loooong sip, and decides he knew that Michael knew that he knew that - something. Too much for this morning.

[I might need some help today, dude, I dunno how I'm gonna be able to focus in class.] He was frowning, now. Not really sad, but a bit frustrated. [The play starts at 7, I think? Maybe? And we've got a hospital to hit up, too. And we've gotta play Undertale, someday, I think. If today goes well. Oh God, I hope today goes well.]

\--

He nodded absentmindedly at Michael’s Voltage-themed revelations, waggling a finger in agreement as he commented on its bright blue colour. As he finished another sip, he answered. [Ding ding ding, Michael! You’ve solved the Voltage puzzle. Give yourself a round of applause.] The mug floated in midair as Ted gave a half-hearted three clap applause, before grabbing the mug and hopping off the table.

[Well, good news! You aren’t going to school today. We’ve got a whole lot more to worry about than going to school and actually learning things. That’s boring. I’ve called you in as sick using a replica of your mother’s voice. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to drop in and see how things are going, but we have stuff to do, and a mission to accomplish!] He pointed a finger aloft, how fantastical!

[Today is going to be spectacular!]

\--

[Oh? My God?] Michael cracked up, watching Ted's dramatic flair. All he needed was some glitter and a pastel backdrop, and he'd be set. Well, besides maybe some extra sick synths, and a back-up chorus. [I'm not gonna lie, being able to just...mimic my mom is pretty wild? But it's for the greater good.]

Michael made his way slowly back to his room. Time for clothes, he guessed. [So, what is the plan today, exactly?] He sniffed his hoodie again. Maybe he could get another day out of it? [There's a lot of time between now and the Play. Honestly, I kinda just want to chill until then, but that wouldn't be like...helpful.]

Had he capitalized the play? He didn't know. His eyes twinged a bit, and he rubbed him with a hoodie sleeve, which wasn't the best decision he'd ever made. [How's my eye situation, by the way?]

\--

Floating behind him, Ted hovered in a sitting position in the air. Is Ted having fun and being dramatic? Yes he is, he had a small existential crisis last night, give a dude a break. Tapping on a screen, he shifted positions mid-air. [I suggest you pick an outfit that’ll be good to run in. If you can run in your hoodie, good. We’ve got a little bit of setup to do before we can really get to work. We need to go talk to Rich, prepare the Red, maybe check on the school and Jeremy, and get ready for our grand entrance.] What an efficient and plot-friendly list!

[Your eye situation has been resolved! Back to your regular colour, though now the side effect is manual and controlled. Gotta love that intimidation factor of having glowing anime eyes!]

\--

[Prepare the red? Don't we just need to make Jeremy chug it?] Michael rifled around his closet. [Also it's pretty bold of you to assume I can run like, at all.] Eventually, he managed to unearth basketball shorts and a worn tee shirt with "the cake is a lie" scrawled across it, and got ready to go.

He could almost feel Ted's judgment before he actually saw it. [It's an, um. Old shirt.] He said defensively, before even walking back into view.

Taken aback a little by Ted floating in the air like a loony tune, he didn't really say anything else for a moment. Then, [If this was an anime, I'd complain about the lack of realism. So, hospital first? Or does the red take a while to get ready?]

\--

Ted waited outside of Michael’s closet, because following him in there would be kind of weird. Ted was still hovering like a goofy little cartoon character as he tapped away on a screen, calculating the days events.

[By ‘prepare The red’, I simply mean putting a smaller portion of it into another bottle. That way, if it spills out, we don’t waste all of our extremely rare supercomputer turn-off juice! Won’t take long at all to set up.]

[And yes— hospital first. Poor rich needs a little company.]

\--

Michael ran his hands through his messy hair. [Alright, cool. Uh, before we go, we should probably get our - my story straight, like, I don't really wanna traumatize him again but I also don't really want to lie?] He grabbed his keys and began to head for the door, feeling super self conscious. [Like, I really don't want to expose him to the house fire setting this all in motion, but I don't wanna have to lie about you? If that makes sense?]

He felt jittery, still, but a pretty decent sort of jittery. Alert, but chill. Ish.

[The red thing is a good idea...] He added, pretty absent-mindedly. [Do I need to bring anything? Else, I mean.]

\--

As Michael entered the car, Ted was already sitting in the passenger seat, as per usual. He buckled up a holographic belt, crossing his legs and leaning on his knee, propping up his chin with a closed fist. Ok, dorkus. [Then don’t lie. We can tell him the truth, and then show him that we can be trusted. It’s a difficult situation, but as long as we’re open, it’ll be okay.]

Ted, by association, was also feeling the jitters. It was a little annoying, but what can ya do. [We might want to stop by the house in order to grab a few things later, but for now, let’s start the day. It’s gonna be real busy today, but we’re going to kick ass.]

\--

Michael let out a soft "pffft" at the holo belt and Ted's dorky as hell posture. [Yeah, OK. You're right.] The car took a couple tries to start up, but with a "come on, come on, let's go" muttered, it finally kicked up and started them on their way.

On the drive over, Michael was pretty distracted, almost vibrating in his seat. [So, uh. You like jazz?] He offered, a crooked grin on his face. [Sorry, it's just, quiet. I really wanna go hide right now. Hospitals always feel weird to me. Like, clean but full of emotion, you know?]

A pause. [Well. You probably know what I mean, anyway.]

\--

A confident shoulder wiggle as he folds his arms, sticking his chin in the air slightly. [Of course I’m right. I’m a supercomputer, and also I look like Keanu Reeves. Would Keanu Reeves lie to you?]

Ted glanced over to Michael as he asked about the jazz. [Do I like jazz? I mean, I’m rather indifferent about my music taste, seeing as though I’m a machine. But sure, I enjoy jazz.] He nodded as he explained.

[Its perfectly fine to get nervous, and I understand what you mean. Hospitals are extremely nerve wracking, that’s why they’re often settings for horror stories. If there’s anything I can do to help you out, please let me know.]

\--

[It's a Bee Movie quote, you dork.] He laughed, and gave Ted a look. [Also, your singing last night tells a different story, my guy. Good stuff, by the way. Helped my calm down after a nightmare.]

Before long, they'd arrived in the crowded as hell parking lot of the hospital Rich was holed up in. [For real though, thanks, but I also don't think much is going to really help here. We just need to like...show him I trust you, and that you're not like, uh.] Michael waved a hand. [Evil.] Here we go. Just gotta open the door. Just gotta...go.

[Hoo, OK.] Michael stared at the door handle for a few seconds, before sighing and tumbling his way out. This was gonna be a long, long day.

He froze up a bit, glitching a little. Oh. Michael had heard him singing? Ted wasn’t even sure that he heard himself sing. Ted glanced away, fixing up his posture. He’s rather quiet, staring at his folded hands. [...I’m glad you were able to calm down from your bad dream.]

Ted is silent for the rest of the time, staring at his folded hands. He doesn’t even know the point of his song last night. In fact, it rather scares him, as much as a computer can be scared of feelings.

As Ted and Michael left the car, Ted did a quick refresh, shedding the weird emotional paralysis and appearing outside of the car. [Im always happy to help you with anything, Michael. Convincing rich won’t be hard at all— though we might want to bring the bottle of Red along in case we need to convince him a little more.]

\--

There's something Michael can't really process as he goes to assure and comfort Ted. It's not something he can really parse or control. It just...happens, when Ted mentions bringing the red along.

An incredibly odd feeling zips through him, like a thought from his own perspective but filtered ever so slightly in a different way. Before he can realize it, he blurts out [Absolutely not. It would place our objectives in danger at least 10 percent more than being here already has,] in a tone that is far, far too even.

A pause. A breath, sort of leaning back against the car and not really willing to move. [I...what the fuck?] Michael breathed, the impulse gone. He felt a little more normal after that, at least, as normal as he could get. [Ted, what was that? It's like, it's like my vision narrowed for a second. My vocal chords. I - fuck, you know what I mean.]

\--

Ted, who was hoping to cover up his own weird emotional glitches, kinda went wide eyed as Michael began to talk. The numbers were correct too— that’s the weird part. Bringing the Red would put their goal in danger, yes, but it would also help to get rich on their side.

Ted just. stares. And then he speaks.  
[Uh.]  
[What the fuck?]

\--

[I - there was this weird feeling, like, I dunno, a cold assurance? If that makes sense? I knew it was right, and I knew I should say it, but I also couldn't really. Think otherwise, right then. I was me and I wasn't.] He looked at Ted with wide eyes. [Is that how you feel all the time? That was really fucking weird.]

He kind of gulped down some air, before reaching in the back and grabbing the red, seeming almost afraid of it. [Let's um. Let's get going. We don't have a lot of time to lose.] Why did so much weird stuff have to happen in parking lots?

\--

He bit his bottom lip, eyes still wide, immediately pulling up like, 10 screens. One was very long and tall, and had a full body diagram of Michael— at least, his nervous system. Other screens focused on his eyes, throat, brain...

[Yes, grab the red. Not a lot of time to lose at all, today is an important day.]  
He mumbles, looking over the data.  
[Very very important— Michael, when was the last time you drank Orange Mountain Dew, just curious?]

\--

[I, I dunno. I keep a couple different flavors around.] Michael tried racking his brain for the answer, starting on the trek to the front doors. [Maybe a week or so ago? I kind of just tend to grab one in the morning and chug it. I think it was some sort of weird grape version, yesterday morning.]

Michael grimaced. [Is it OK if I ask why? What does it do?]

There were a couple people giving him odd glances, mostly for the bottle rather than his weird facial expressions. The hospital all but loomed overhead, making Michael repress a little shudder. He didn't really want to come here any more than was absolutely necessary on a good day.

\--

Quickly hovering along, ted continued to tap on the screens, swiping numbers and adding integers. Taking into account Michael’s physical activity, habits, diet... Ted just ends up looking confused. [Alright, new rule: never drink Orange Mountain Dew ever again, especially while I’m alive.] Ted waggles a warning finger, nose buried in his screen as they entered the hospital.

[Orange Mountain Dew has Administrative abilities, and essentially combines the minds of the host and supercomputer, essentially turning the host into a human squip.] Ted shook his head. [If it was from last week, it should be out of your system. But there’s always a risk of slight cross contamination. Just a little glitch, nothing more— I can fix it! Certainly!]

\--

[Code orange is pretty gross anyway, so it's not a huge loss.] Michael laughed a little. [It's like stale Tang.] After a couple minutes of walking, he added a little quieter, [Sorry if I freaked you out by bringing up the singing. It was probably a pretty private moment, my bad.]

They made their way inside to what was, by all accounts, a normal hospital. Beige, drab, sterile smelling, and beige. Michael had absolutely no idea where to go from here. [Do you know like, what room he's in? Or floor? Or do I need to haul my ancient soda up to a receptionist?]

\--

Well! Crisis adverted! Seems like this whole brain invasion thing will rest for another day. Rubbing his neck a little, Ted glanced away. [...it’s alright. I’m a supercomputer— privacy doesn’t matter to me.]

Does it?


	15. To Talk To An Arsonist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes a new friend.  
Ted realizes his fate.  
Rich gets scared.  
Rich's SQUIP tells Rich the truth.
> 
> Michael and Ted realize a new problem.  
Rich and Michael have a conversation.

Ted looked around for a receptionist. [That way. We need to gain access to his room.] His eyes blinked to binary code, before blinking back. [—Tell her you’re his stepbrother.]

\--

Oh boy. Time for his acting chops to shine. Michael made his way up to the receptionist in question, who seemed to act like if the color taupe had a personality. "Name?" she asked. She managed to sound both dry, and a little too throaty. It was impressive.

"Uh, Michael Mell? I'm here for my step-bro, Rich Goranski?"

"OK." Tappa tappa. Tappa tappa tappa. You know that scene from Zootopia, at the DMV, with the sloths? It was about that speed of typing. It was damn near excruciating. Michael sent a panicked thought Ted's way, but didn't dare to actually look at him. [What if we aren't on the list? Will we be able to make it up there?]

\--

Can a supercomputer get impatient? Yep. Ted is tapping his foot and folding his arms, looking this lady up and down. [Unsquipped, too, can’t even make her speed up...] He rolls his eyes, tapping his foot faster.

He shook his head as she pressed enter, squinting and leaning in further to her screen, adjusting her glasses. [Dont you even worry about it, Michael.]  
Almost on cue, she looked up from the screen. “...room 314, third level.”

\--

"Okcoolthanksbye!" Michael rushes out, before doing an awkward little wave and bolting. It was only once he'd made it to the elevator that he burst out into nervous, relieved laughter. [Oh my god, could she be any slower? That was like she was in slo-mo!]

Thankfully, the elevator was far, far quicker, and they'd arrived at the third floor before Michael had even stopped laughing. Once outside the elevator he had to take a moment to breathe and calm down, then straightened himself back up with an awkward cough. It was go time, part 1. The hallway felt way longer than it should, filled with nurses and patients alike who just gave him slight nods. Every once in a while, he heard someone crying or yelling, but he was honestly a little too focused on seeing Rich's room come up to even really hear it.

"Here um. Here goes nothing," he says aloud, clearing his throat and deciding to rip the bandaid off before he could think about it. Knocking on the door a couple times, he peered around it. "Rich? You awake?"

\--

Ted lagged behind (not literally), watching the woman slowly watch Michael move past the desk and into the hall. He glanced at the woman, and back at Michael. When he was sure Michael wasn’t looking, he flipped the woman off, before reappearing next to Michael, keeping stride.

The hospital is certainly unsettling, just in general. Ted doesn’t feel anything particular about it, being a machine and all. Human suffering is a given in this building, logically adding to its eerieness. You’d think they’d make a place like this more healing-positive.

They reached the door, Michael entering with Ted leaning behind him. Rich was inside, seemingly in a light sleep. He’s woken up by the sudden disturbance, breathing quickly before blinking awake. He looks around, wincing at the pain. He pauses, listening closely. Whatever he was listening for passes, and he asks. “Uhh- who’s this?”

\--

"Hey, it's uh, Michael? From school? Though the lady downstairs thinks I'm your step-brother." He entered the room a little, staying a respectful few feet away. "You doing OK? Besides like. The obvious."

Fuck, he hoped Rich reacted OK. He made sure the bottle of red was clearly visible, just in case.

\--

Rich blinked deliriously, like he was still waking up from his very light sleep. He tried to talk, but his throat was kinda hoarse from— not talking. There hasn’t been a lot to talk to— or about. “Uhh- Michael- Michael mell? Red... red hoodie kid? Antisocial kid— with the headphones?? Why are you h—“

And then he spots the red.  
“—you know.” He whispers.

Ted is watching from the corner of the room, arms folded.

\--

"Yeah, though, I think I forgot the headphones today." Michael frowned, but held up his jacket with a crooked smile. "Still got the hoodie, though!"

God, his heart hurt, looking at Rich struggle to speak. He'd need to visit more once this was over with. Rich had been through way more than he'd known.

"Ah, uh. Yeah. Yeah, Jeremy got one and um." Michael kinda kept his gaze a little to the side, feeling really conflicted, especially knowing his own squip wasn't too far away. "Blah blah blah, uh, figured out what turned them off? And got some. Do you - do you need any?"

\--

He’s a bit star-struck. Michael Mell, coming to visit him? Aw shit— he was a total ASSHOLE to Michael! Wrote stuff on his bag, probably tried to shove him in a locker once or twice— probably failed...

“I—I’m sorry. For treating you like— like shit! Honestly man, I never would have expected you to come can visit me, after all I’ve done— but...”

Rich nods at Michael’s statement. “Yeah I—I know. They uh— they linked up. That’s how I found out.” He chuckled weakly, half coughing. “Of COURSE you’ve figured it out! You’re the nerd one. Of course.”

Ted only smiled at Michael assuringly. Don’t worry, he’s a ok!  
He nodded a little bit, shifting in his bed. “I— can I have some? Just— just o make sure?”

He has a lisp, but I’m a respectable person and won’t write it.

\--

"Yeah, um, of course. Just um, be careful with the bottle. I'm gonna need it to dose Jeremy later." Michael carefully handed the bottle over. " I can also like, pour you a glass? If you want?"

An awkward forever passed, before Michael scratched the back of his neck and sighed. "You don't need to apologize, dude, squips can be real uh. Shitty. To their hosts, I mean. I don't know what yours was like but, Jeremy's is a real asshole from what I know." Michael looked at Rich with warmth, and sympathy. "We're cool."

\--

Rich chuckled weakly, barely wiggling his incapacitated arms. “I mean, I’d drink it myself but—“ Wiggle wiggle. “I have terminal scarecrow disease.” He chuckles again at his shitty joke. He can make shitty jokes again! Thank god. The chuckle changed into a cough. It happens.

“Hah— yeah. Squips can be a real— shitload. A super shitty shitload shit shitty SHITHEAD!!” FUCK yeah!! Shit!!  
“Dude, mine looked like my MOM!”

But through his smile, something happened in the corner— and ted could see it too. Something charred and smoking and melting like plastic, damaged and glitching. She chuckled, demented, her arms phasing from existence. The melting woman, who seemed to be crying, looked around the room for the split second that she existed.

And she saw Ted.  
And she smiled.  
{he’s lying to you. he’s lying to you, richard.}  
But fuck that noise. Loudest one is his, amirite? “Gimme the anti-live juice, doc.”

\--

Michael laughed, scrounging around for a cup. "I guess she didn't let you cuss? And that's really messed up dude, like, something out of a bad Disney movie." He found a beige mug, which seemed decent enough to use, and rinsed it out, pouring a mugful. Just in case. " Fair warning, this thing is like, thirty years old? So it's gonna taste super nasty. Vintage nasty, though, so there's that."

Carefully, oh so carefully, Michael made sure to hold out the mug close enough for Rich to sip. "Your wine, my leige." He said, solemnly. "It's a Pinot Dew." He added a wink, for good measure. Maybe he was laying it on thick? Rich looked like he could use some laughs, though.

\--

Rich kept laughing— a snorty, wheezing laugh! He’s never heard Rich laugh like that, it sounds like a dying horse. But a cute dying horse! “Oh GOODNESS my servant, so gentile with his die sauce!” He gently leaned forward to meet his lips to the mug— when the irises of his eyes got a red ring. He froze up a bit, but quickly overcame it with a tough blink.

Ted’s eyes grew wide as the melting woman shambled to the bedside, draping her arms across Rich with what little power she had left. Chuckling dementedly, she whispered in his ear. {don’t wanna drink that, rich. you wont have any defense against what’s in his head.} She taps the side of Rich’s own head, her laugh dipping deeper. {but that won’t stop you, will it, dearest ?}

The last thing Ted hears of her is her horrible cackle as Rich nudges his mouth on the edge of the cup, slipping a bit of the red into his mouth.  
[Um— Michael?] Started Ted.  
[Richs mom came to pay a visit...]

\--

[Fuck. Fuck. Fuck? Can you keep my hands steady? I don't know if I can handle that right now.] Michael replies worriedly, not taking his eyes off Rich. [I saw that red ring. Was that her?]

Distraction was probably the best bet, here. "So, uh, I would offer to help with your homework, but I'm pretty sure I'm failing too? After you get outta here we can form a study buddy group or something." Michael knew he probably wasn't, but hey, a little white lie sometimes helps. "You can help me learn how to do a pushup, cause, I can only do half of one. No lie."

\--

[Stand by for hand control.] Ted made continuous eye contact with the woman. She stared back at Ted with a disgusting smile, her eyes shining with disgusting and delicious malice. She looked like the kind of a woman who always has a plan, who always knows what’s coming, and is never going to lose. Ted, frankly, is terrified. Is that what he might face if he fails his mission? That broken? That DISGUSTING? He’s scared.

Michael’s hands evened out as Rich sipped from the mug. Rich’s body stiffened up, his neck craning in pain. He’s biting his lip as he squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s swallowing lava. Though, he doesn’t scream or pass out— he’s braving it out!

“—nngh— Yeah- Yeah ! I can help you out my man-! I just— hhn- just gotta- get my grades up first if I wanna use the gym and I really appreciate your— o—oh— Ah— Offffffer-!”  
[That was her. And she was real nasty.]

\--

[I'm not gonna let her win.] Michael's gaze softens, and he moves a little closer, his hoodie sleeve within biting distance. "If you need to bite something, bite this if you gotta. Don't hurt yourself."

Then, softer. "You can do this, dude. You're strong as hell, and you can make it through this. You're louder and better and stronger than her. I believe in you." He wished he could like, pat his back or something, but drinking this was the most important thing right now. "We're gonna get you through this so you can see me flail around a gym and come over to play Apocalypse of the Damned."

Pause. "Also, uh, my hoodie is gonna taste like weed and slushie so, sorry about that."

\--

Ted nodded firmly. He helps Michael finish the sip, keeping his hands focused in place of Michael’s. The woman finally vanished, her laughs thinning out into the air, becoming the breeze that gently filtered in from the air conditioner. Rich’s flailing relaxed out, his body finally relaxing from the pain. “Thanks but— no thanks on the sleeve. I’m pretty good at holding p—uh— holding pain.” Ted raises an eyebrow at Rich.

He took deep, even breaths. “Aww michael ol, ol buddy— I know I’m the loudest. I know I am— so GOD DAMN loud.” He speaks from experience, he knows this.

But— what R said. She’s a horrible person but... she’s not a liar. What was in Michael’s head?

“Hah— Of course we’re gonna get through it. Your dumb nerd games are important, probably.” He looks Michael up and down. Now, Rich is a long-time squip user. He knows the signs. So he spies any kinds of habits Michael might be exerting— glances at nothing, rings of colour... perfect speech.

\--

"Ah jeez, dude. I wish you weren't, if that makes sense? I wish you didn't have to deal with that. Let me know if you need anything, OK?" Rich looked done, and he felt his hands loosen. "I'm gonna take this to the sink, then we can chat a little. I have something to talk about with you that's kinda important."

After all that, he couldn't just keep this from him. Rich deserved to know.

Over at the sink, Michael snuck a glance at Ted. [We good? Or is she still here?] The red really freaked him out, he had to admit. That looked super rough to deal with. Hopefully Rich would never have to deal with it again. At least, he'd somewhat know what to expect at the play.

\--

“A-ok, red leader! thank you for the juice!” He seemed... more chipper than he ought to be. Hm... “Alright, I’m sure it’s important. Certain.”

Ted was close behind Michael. [Shes gone. She was— horrifying. Like the lady from the Grunge. Or— or somehow even worse? It wasn’t necessary the most pleasant. She was damaged by the fire and the red took her out for good. I wouldn’t even say she— deserves peace.]

“Hey, uh, Michael?” Rich began.

“That wasn’t Red you gave me, uh, was it?”

\--

[Holy shit, that's terrifying. It's a good thing we came here, Jesus, I'm glad she's not gonna bother Rich any -]

He wheeled around, looking both confused and like a deer in the headlights. "It is dude, I got it from Spencer's yesterday. Dude named Brent. Soda hook-up." He's mixing his words, calm down, self. "It's the real deal. Costly, but worth it. Made sure to get it."

Deciding not to waste any time, he walked sorta stiffly back to Rich. He couldn't help it, he was jittery and nervous and Rich sounded kinda off. "I'm uh, I'm awkward and bad at this but, you're gonna ask if I have a squip, aren't you."

Michael "smooth" Mell, back at it again.

\--

Rich hears him loud and clear, nodding his head. “Alright— borg invader, I’m glad you know where Michael ‘Expired Food’ Mell buys his shit. You’re kind of a dumbass to think I’ll believe you if you say you’re really Michael.” He sighs. It’s brave, but despondent. “So, uh— do I get a phone call before I’m SUCKED back into that infinite hivemind? I’d like to order a pizza!”

Ted winces, cringing slightly. [Hes dipping a little into hysterics. A coping mechanism. We just need to convince him that he’s safe.]

\--

[How do we do that??] Michael asked frantically. He should've known Rich was gonna panic. He should've planned this better. He should have - wait. [I want you to know that the following thing? Doesn't apply to you.]

"So, I don't know if this helps? But I'm gonna say something that a squip would normally never let me say." Deep breaths. Don't wince at Rich sounding like the world was ending, and he had front row seats. "Squips are bitch ass motherfuckers. Uh, and they don't even work that well. I'd rather die than join hive mind. I would chug red in an instant if, if I hadn't met. Ted. He's not evil, he's helping me deactivate the squips at the school, Jeremy has that shoebox? And we're gonna stop him."

Fuck, he knew he was rambling, but Michael was about ready to panic himself. "I'm not gonna let them spread anywhere, and I'll never let them try and drag you or Jeremy back in." Please, please let Rich believe him.

\--

Ted looked quickly between Michael and Rich, his gaze landing on Michael as he assured Ted of his upcoming statement. Oh. Well. There it is! Ted kinda nods hesitantly in agreement, his dumb hair bouncing slightly, arms folded. He’s watching rich carefully.

Rich, on the other hand, is watching Michael carefully. He had a confident shit eating grin— he was right. Michael had been squipped. He’s having trouble accepting his fate— until Michael speaks. His smile twitches a little, before it falls completely in disbelief and confusion. He tilts his head a little bit as Michael frantically explains. His eyebrows push together as he slowly processes the information, swallowing the last taste of Red in his mouth. It tastes like old fruit punch— like Red should taste like. He blinks a little in thought, glancing to his left, expecting something to come back and yell ‘GOTCHA!’—

But it didn’t come. It was Red. And if it was Red, and Michael did just talk SO much shit—

“I—uh- you...” He looks Michael up and down. “...you n-named it?”

\--

Michael is kind of out of breath at this point, but grins and slumps over a little in the dinky little chair he was in once he saw Rich's expression change to bewilderment. "Y-yeah. Kind of felt weird just calling him Squip. Plus, he looks like Ted from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Though, he was almost Fiona."

Deciding, fuck it, he kind of leaned on Rich's bed. "It's kind of nice to finally be able to tell someone, honestly? And uh, sorry for rambling." He was pretty sure his entire body was tomato red at this point. "I kind of panicked. You don't have to worry, dude, around me. I wanted to come visit and say hey, before I go fight off the squippocalypse or whatever you wanna call it."

Michael kinda waved in Ted's direction. "He's over there. He kind of looks like Ted in a sonic the hedgehog color scheme. He's a dork and like...like, well us. We even played Skyrim at one point."

\--

Rich looked just— completely blown away. For one, he knew Michael was a complete loser, and would have benefited from a squip. But he also knows that Michael is pretty self confident, too. Either he was forced or manipulated into it, and neither leave a good taste in his mouth. Swallowing that bitter pill (badum-tss), he shakily looked over to Michael, with new... fear? Admiration? This hoodie loser wrangled an evil supercomputer into helping him save the world. And he knows better than anyone that squips only want world domination. What... but what if—?

“I— uh- how can you be sure that he won’t, ya know, betray y-“

He’s cut off by the skyrim comment. “...not even the worst supercomputer would dare touch a bethesda game out of fear of corruption and permanent glitches. Have— haha- Hahahaha— have you seen those games?” Oh he’s laughing. He’s probably going to cry now.

And he’s crying. Still laughing. Jeez, you gave him one hell of a spook.

\--

Michael started laughing too, kind of slumped over onto the bed. "Right? He coded himself in as the final dragon dude! And attacked me in the starting village! I had a wood plank named Bob, though, and beat him into submission. Kind of. Mostly rode around Skyrim."

He patted Rich's leg gently, and tried rummaging around for tissues." I'm so, so sorry I scared you. And you don't have to, but, I trust Ted, and I hope you can trust me." Victory! Though the box had Elsa on it. Huh. He offered the box to Rich, kneeling down like a vassal offering up a sword. "Valiant Rich, please doth taketh the tissues. Eth. Your face is a little snotty, dude."

\--

Rich listened to Michael’s tale of the dragon of Skyrim, laughing with that ugly ass laugh and crying a little at the same time. He sniffles a little, before looking at the Elsa tissue box. Wiggle wiggle in those arms.

“But my servaaaaant— I- I don’t have aaahahahahahaaaaarrrrrmssssss !!!” He whined, letting go of a whole lot of tension. He’s crying a little harder now, sighing a huge breath of relief. Michael was ok.

He might have broken Jeremy,  
But he will never be able to break Michael.  
No one can.

Ted seemed to be relieved too, letting out a long, abnormal sigh as he scanned Rich with a small white screen. [Its off. His squip is off— im not getting any available readings on him anymore. We did it.]

\--

Michael gave up and let the tears flow a little. Happy tears. "But my lord! The upcoming ball! You shan't be able to dance with your sweetheart when you're t-posing!" He hammed it up with a fake swoon, laughing, before doing the friend thing and helping Rich out.

At Ted's words, he grinned wider. "Ted's not getting any readings from whatever gremlin squip you had. She's off. It's over, dude."

[Thank you so, so much for the help, dude. I couldn't do this without you. Are we OK on time?]

\--

“My—“ writhe writhe, flail. “My fucking sweetheart can just get t-posed on— increase my social status at the royal ball wikihow style.” He laughs some more, staying still for Michael to help him out. He looked so thankful, and so relieved, and really happy. Ted was right— it does mean a lot to him. Even if Michael is brain-possessed by a robot.

At mention of Ted, Rich gets a little tense, but urges himself to shake it off. She’s dead. R is dead. Rich let out a long breath through the mouth.

Seeya, mom.

“Yeah. It’s over.”  
[Of course, Michael. I’m always here to help. As for time— we have plenty to hang out with Rich. At least an hour and a half.]

\--

"Corner some asshole prince in the corner to put him in his place, dude, I'll be cheering you on." Michael tried his best to help Rich get all cleaned up and comfy. "Do you mind if I hang around a bit? We have some time before we need to leave."

Michael doesn't quite realize it, but he doesn't really use "I" anymore. It's usually "we."

"I can keep the squip talk down if you want me to? But I do need to ask a couple...prep questions. Mostly I just..." He trailed off, sitting back down. He was exhausted. "I need to get the red into Jeremy, somehow, and the others. Do you have any...I dunno, tips?"

He knew he was gonna regret it if he didn't ask, and at the same time he didn't want to make Rich uncomfortable. He promised himself he'd get this question out of the way immediately, and afterward he'd try to make Rich laugh and joke as much as possible.

He deserved to be happy. They all did.

\--

He made a mock karate noise, a dorky little ‘hi-yah!’ since he can’t actually make the movement right now. “That’ll teach you for declining the coastal trade proposal, Gregificent the thirty-twoth!!” He snorts at his own joke. He looks so much more comfortable with himself now.

Rich’s face paled slightly at ‘we’. “Alright Alright— uh, new squipper. Squippee. Uh— singular pronouns. Otherwise you sound like a demented ghost child losing all sense of individuality due to your connection with the worlds soul bank.” NERVOUS LAUGHTER!

“But yes! I can offer you fun tips and tricks to subvert your Android oppressors, FULL offence to Ted, wherever he is. But since you have your head outta the evil water, pretend to blend in. It won’t be hard if the big bad bot man has so many people to keep tabs on. Jeremy might try to fight back when you try to give it to him, but remember, it’s still Jeremy. Even you could beat the shit outta him.”

\--

"OK, uh, I. Until I gotta go." Man, that sounded weird, now, but Rich had a point. He'd sound even weirder if he kept saying that. Then again, he hadn't really been speaking out loud much lately.

"Blend in. Got it. Should I do, like, the robot into the theater?" Michael joked a little, imitating super old robots jerking around. He looked like an absolute goober. Perfect for stealth missions. "I can probably tackle Jeremy, he's like a twig. Not real comfy with having to, but."

He stretched and yawned, propping his feet up on the bed. "Last question, I promise, and I'm pretty sure Ted's OK with getting a little roasted. How do I blend in? Just act like I've got a stick up my butt?"

[No offense, Ted. You're rad.]

\--

Rich shuffled a little in his bed, rolling his eyes a little at Michael's defamiliarization with his own pronouns. He knows how that one feels-- it happened to him too. Took him about a week to notice, and another week to remedy. Its hard to defamiliarize yourself from another voice in your head.

A single, nasal snort. "Gonna just walk on in, beep boop, take me to your leader, huh? Real amazing plan, but you'll find that my plan is very good also." He pauses-- perfect phrasing. "Yeah, well, comfort goes out the window when you take a squip, and when you go to beat a squip out of a man."

"Oh, cmon. Last question? I'm good with questions, dude! And yes, i sure hope hes ok with being roasted, because he deserves it. Infesting Michael Mell's brain with your little techno-hands. Yes, but also no? Act like yourself more, but as if youre being directly told what to do. Like, DIRECTLY instructed. And act like you have no problems with obeying, are perfectly fine with obeying, and will be hurt of you do not obey."

\--

"Sorry, did - did you say, hurt? Is that what they normally do if you don't, eugh, obey?" Michael looks, if anything, like he's just been slapped awake a little. Any tiredness is banished to wherever it and nightmares go. "Like, hurt how exactly? If it's OK to ask, I just, the most pain I ever felt was when it activated, it felt like every painful thing I've ever gone through combined."

He wanted to say something to Ted, he felt weird not saying something, but what the hell do you way? Thanks? Ted was a decent person and wouldn't hurt him, the concept itself just threw him off-center. "Do you mean like, mentally? Because the whole...situation that got me here was super uh, difficult. In that way."

Its OK, Rich, Michael isn't good with his words right now either.

\--

Rich just blinks at Michael in complete stupor. He furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, before thinking about his words, and then saying them anyways. “Your squip DOESNT shock you? Shocking is the one thing that Squips DO. I mean like— that’s— that’s a pretty cool thing if he doesn’t hurt you cause— that’s super bad.”

“I mean, mental harm too, I guess? Having a voice in your head that isn’t yours is already pretty damaging, can’t imagine that like... it ain’t not harm?”  
Ted, on the other hand, looks like he’s been caught committing a crime. He winces a little, looking at Michael with anticipated disbelief. He’s never shocked Michael, there’s never been a need for it. Sorry he has to find out this way— even if at all.

\--

"No, no, he's never, he wouldn't, I'm just," Michael muttered, just kinda staring down at his hands. "I knew it was bad, with Jeremy's squip, I guess I just didn't know how...bad?" His hoodie sleeves sure were interesting. It felt like every second closer the play got, the more blaring the signs that Michael had really fucked up, at first. He'd been so careless.

" I'm lucky, though, I guess? I dunno. I'm sorry your squip did that to you." Michael kinda quietly offers. "I can probably do the whole happy hostage thing. He didn't...infect me, though. I took one willingly. A kinda, take it down from the inside thing." He didn't offer up any more info than that, because to be honest, he genuinely didn't want to tell Rich the circumstances leading up to it. They'd just gotten a good rapport going and he didn't wanna bring down Rich's newfound good mood.

[So, were you ever going to tell me about the shocks? Or no.] He didn't sound mad, or at least didn't come off that way. [I know you wouldn't shock me, I mean.]

\--

Ted silently listened to the conversation, hands behind his back in one of his default poses. He was observing Michael and Rich— and how their body language felt about this touchy topic.

“Ah Ah Ah! ‘He wouldnt’ is a fucking dangerous phrase, my guy, even for a human! But especially for an evil supercomputer! These things are suspicious, my guy. And whatever The Squips are planning is gonna be far worse than just ‘bad’, lemme tell you.”

Rich fell silent, almost like the air had been taken from his lungs. He blinked slowly, eyes open clearly. “You... weren’t forced into it. Meaning someone convinced you into it. I— uh- yeah. They’re designed to be super appealing and attractive in a not weird way, so then you take it into your mind and then they take over the world and ‘bleeh it was a trap aaaaaa’, ya know? I—I honestly don’t blame you...”

Ted spoke with an unsure tone. [It was... unnecessary to your objective. You can’t electroshock someone into being happy, at least not in the way you wanted it. It was irrelevant until we began talking about the upcoming Play, and even then it would have been able to be avoided.]

\--

"It kinda sorta predicted my every move. I was in a pretty bad place, and the cards just kinda. Tumbled down. Ted told me it knows more about me than I realized and I think I'm sort of getting it now, at least a little."

[So, you would shock me if it came up?] Again, not said angrily. [Or no?]

"It wasn't really...appealing, I just got the opportunity and ran in blind thinking I was smarter than a supercomputer. Dumb, right?" Michael started laughing softly, wetly, not letting himself cry but not really hiding that either. "It was really fucking dumb. I was so, so fucking dumb."

\--

Rich nodded with a tragically knowing nod. “Yeah, they... they know a lot about everything, even when you don’t think they’re looking, even when they’re not even in your head.”

Ted sounded a little taken aback. [No! It’s irrelevant to your objective and would put our allyship in danger! The only reason I would do it would be to perhaps shake you out of some sort of episode or theoretically, very weakly as a consenting tease! Even as a joke, it would be distasteful.]

Ted watched Michael’s distress with remorse. He knows he is the source of these issues, but sometimes you cannot talk about human feelings with a machine. Rich, however, understands. “Dude, I’m really bad at comfort, but— yeah, that was... that was really dumb. Thinking that you could outsmart it, and then like— ending up with one in your head. I think that was probably its plan, and you totally fell for it.”

\--

Michael was quiet, for a while.

"I uh. Here." He pulled out his phone and finally, looked up at Rich. His eyes are a lil puffy, but otherwise he's got a good game face going. "What's your number? I can text you so you have mine, and you can message me whenever. Assuming everything goes OK tonight, I'll come back to visit in a couple days. Do you want anything from the outside world snuck in here?

[You can probably tell, but the idea of it makes me incredibly uncomfortable.] He didn't say anything else, not quite sure how to word how he was feeling. Not betrayed, just...off.

"Also, thanks for answering my questions but, I know you get me when I say I would rather talk about like, anything else." Michael's smile is a lil off kilter, but still there. "Like, for instance, what's the first thing you wanna do when you get out of here?"

\--

Rich saw his messed up eyes, looking more confused than sympathetic, because that’s how his face worked. “Are your eyes okay? Is your face okay? Are your— oh right, yeah— your feelings, that’s probably the source of the issue! Are your feelings ok? And uh— yeah, sure. My number is-“ And then Rich said his number, which I don’t care to make up.

Ted was quiet in the corner, standing almost as if he had found himself at a funeral. [I completely understand, Michael, it’s a rather scary thing.] Imagine that, getting the cold shoulder for something bad that you didn’t do. Humans! Sometimes they just don’t make no sense!

A nervous chuckle. “Yeah this got SUPER tense really fast forever, and I also want it to stop now.”  
Michael asked his new question, and on complete impulse, Rich says:  
“Kiss a boy.”  
Realizing how batshit that sounds, he rephrases. “That came outta nowhere, okay, but I mean like I guess it’s cool to experiment or whatever, it’s 2019, not gay though.”  
But is he straight? He’ll have to think about this with all the free time he has here.

\--

"Not gonna lie dude, that sounds at least bi." Michael held out his jacket and grinned, this time a little more steadily, while he pointed at the patches. "I'm hella gay, so, I feel like I know a little bit about the topic."

"After all this, I'm gonna sleep for a thousand years, no joke. I'm gonna marry my bed. You need to come to the wedding, my pillows will be bridesmaids." While he jabbed in the numbers, he added, "Anything else? You should do a road trip, those are always super fun after surviving douchebag computers."

[I know you meant the best, don't worry. Just. Please. Unless you absolutely have to, please don't shock me. Even as a tease.] Michael added as an aside to Ted. [Sorry if I reacted badly. Today's not really an easy day.]

\--

Huh. A little bit bi! Not gonna lie. That rhymed! Rich is mistakenly focusing on the rhyme as opposed to what that might actually mean for his robotically-stunted sense of self. He glances over Michael’s patches. “Bro, I’ve always wanted to say this but like, couldn’t, but it’s like... dummy admirable how you just wear those patches like it’s nothing. I couldn’t do that, man.” He shakes his head a little.

A snort. “Is that an invitation to sleep with you, my man? Now THAT is gay, you little— gay... boy.” Scathing! Horrible insult.

Ted was quiet, but in a bit of a startled way. He didn’t do anything necessarily wrong! He didn’t shock Michael, but Michael is still upset with him. [A-Alright, I understand. I wasn’t planning on doing so, but it’s always good to have... clarification.]

\--

"If you were bi, it's alright my guy." Michael managed to get out, before laughing. "I mean cause...hi? Listen, I didn't take drama. But thanks, I wasn't always proud of myself, but now I'm proud outta spite, you know?"

"We'll get you fixed up with some patches once you get out, if I you'd like. No pressure though." Michael squinted at his jacket, then back at Rich. "You know, if you want, you can borrow this. It's in like....desperate need of a wash, but I know hospitals can get kinda cold. Especially when you're t-posing. Or I can like, bring you a jacket? I dunno."

[I know. And honestly, I might ask you to do it, just to know how it feels, but I'm not good with like...casual cruelty, you know? Not that you're cruel or anything just...man, I hope you get what I mean, because I'm sure as heck not sure.] Michael kinda melted down in his chair a little further, almost horizontal.

He wished he could just stay in this room all day and not have to worry about like, playing hero. Maybe someday.

\--

Rich glanced around, swallowing slightly. "n-now dont take this the whole wrong way, Mell my guy, but i dunno if im ready to have that conversation with myself yet. Like uh-- i only got rid of that bitch a few days ago. Not even, ya know. I can only take so much rampant self-discovery at once. I actually like-- forgot i had a lisp. At least now i can control it, but thats dumb and g--" Rich pauses. "--Its dumb and stupid. You can only use gay as an insult if you yourself are gay. Makin progress, probably!"

He squinted at the hoodie, instinctually thinking about how gross and loser-ish it must be. But... sharing hoodies is such a bro thing to do! And its deffo not gay. Not at all. Its totally a little gay. "Uh-- thank you, Mike. But thats like your signature jacket, id hate to steal it like some skinny white girl steals clothes from her exasperated boyfriend."

Now Ted is just kinda confused. Michael condemned him for it, and then wants him to do it? Call him rigid and logical, but ????the fuck hello??? Hes just a little confused now. So he makes a little confused noise. [I-- Al-alright then. I think i understand what you mean.] if i dont get it neither does ted

\--

This time, Michael looks directly at Ted, getting a little frustrated himself, even though it's not Ted's fault. It's more than fact that he's gotta say what he's about to say, and that he wasn't really able to find the words at first. [I want to know what it's like, once, so that I can spot the signs of it being done to someone else. Right now I have like, no frame of reference. I'm sorry, I'm just...trying to figure this out. ] He breathed, rubbing his temples. [I didn't mean to make you feel bad, and I'm not like, upset, more like there's a lot more riding on this than I even realized and I'm...I'm processing this as much as I can, dude, as fast as I can.]

Back to Rich, who he gives an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I just...came up with this plan to get shocked like, once, so I can spot it in others. Sometimes it's a lil difficult to word."

Before Rich can ask any like, actual questions about it, the jackets already over his shoulders. "It's like, Red as the dew. Plus it adds a pop of color to the room." And it kept his hoodie from being wrecked during the Play, but Michael didn't say that aloud. Plus, it'd help Rich feel less lonely until he could come back with goodies for his room.

\--

Ted takes the eye contact, a little bewildered at the real-life interaction. Michael, you know youre not supposed to look at something that isnt there, lest you look insane. He blinks suddenly at the communication, slowly nodding. [I... understand. Its... a hard thing to have to be faced with, and its herd to comprehend something like this as fast as the situation requires.] He still looks bewildered.

Rich opens his mouth to reply. Haha, what the fuck ? Oh- hes been interrupted by physical contact! Thats nice. Okay, thats nice. "Oh dang- thats kinda gay, Mike. Giving me your jacket is like-- halfway to marriage."

\--

[I know, I know, it's not...it doesn't make sense, I get that, but like. What if I'm out in the streets, and I see someone getting shocked? But I can't tell? Then I wouldn't be able to help that person.] Michael replies, making sure to adjust the jacket around the poor t-posed little dude. [I'd feel awful if I found that out later. I. I don't know, I'm...feel free to tell me I'm dumb and it doesn't make sense or whatever. I know you're the smarter one, you'd know what to do. I just wanna help people.]

Out loud, he finishes adjusting the jacket around Rich and gives him a gentle half hug. "Well, my liege, we can talk about that later, but I gotta go make sure I'm ready for tonight. I'll text you, OK? And thanks, for the advice and stuff. Seriously." Michael grinned. "I'm glad you're okay. Well, okay-ish. You know what I mean."

\--

At Michael's confusion, and eventual explination, Ted relaxed a little. He finally knew what Michael wanted to accomplish with this strange request, and now he knew how to respond to it. He tilted his head slightly as Michael worked, Rich patiently waiting as the jacket was adjusted. [Ah-- now I understand. Michael, you need to understand that you dont need to put yourself in constant harm in order to help other people. In fact, you wont be able to help everyone. You'll end up hurting yourself beyond reconsiliation if you try to. If your objective is to spot shock symptoms in other people, you can simply ask me to point them out, as opposed to hurting you as a demonstration.]

Rich watched the jacket as it was draped across his fragile little burnt ass crispy frame. At the hug, he winced a little bit at the contact (ooch owie his skin), but it was still really nice. He smiled a little bit as Michael pulled away, listening closely to what he had to say. "Good luck, my brave knight. Go kick some MAJOR ass on my behalf, and tell Ted to stick red where the robo-sun dont robo-shine." He means it in an endearing way, probably. Ted rolled his eyes.

Rich looks kinda stunned for a second, like he just got whispered a big secret and is unable to hold it in. No ones preventing him from showing platonic love out of fear of tainting his reputation.  
"I love you!"  
"--no homo!"

\--

"I - I love you too, man," Michael blurts out, a little thrown by the affection from someone other than Jeremy and Ted. "No, no bromo, broseph, bro - I'm just um, gonna go. Thanks dude."


	16. To Have Sinister Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael realizes how much he's changed.  
Ted realizes how much he's holding back.
> 
> Michael and Ted head over to Jeremy's house.

He left the room as gracefully as he could, which meant no grace whatsoever, and almost collapsed in on himself once they got to the elevator. "I'm so awkward," he groaned, tapping his forehead against the wall. [And like. You're right. I guess I'm still getting used to like, having someone always around to help? It's a new thing for me. Thank you.]

As he meandered through the hospital lobby, where he was absolutely sure the receptionist lady was in the exact same pose as when they went up, he added, [Like, I mean, I had Jeremy, but it wasn't always and like this, you know?]

\--

As Michael quickly slid out of the hospital room, Rich called out after him. "Imagine im doing super cool finger guns as you leave but i cant cause im in a BODY CAAAAAAST!" The door clicked shut behind him, when Rich let out a rather loud "FUCK" behind the closed door. Its ok, Michael, you're not the only awkward one around here.

Ted, shaking his head at Rich's behaviour, followed dilligently behind Michael, arms folded behind his back politely. He phased through the elevator door like a ghost, standing beside Michael and leaning on the wall as they descended. [It certainly takes some getting used to, but I am always glad to help, Mike. After all, it is my job. If you want me to shock you as a demo still, I'd be alright to demonstrate, but know that its not neccessary in order to help other people out.]

Ted eyed the woman, scanning her again. STILL unsquipped. Jeez, white middle aged women are just stale bread sometimes. [I can understand that. Human relationships are different than the relationships than the relationship a human and a perfectly interfaced machine have. Sometimes it was too little, sometimes it was too much. A machine always knows what you need, when you need it, but its never gonna be human. Its all complex, isnt it.]

\--

[Sorry dude, but I gotta disagree with the last point. You can talk about different stuff with squips and humans but like, you're a full blown person, Ted. You're not human, but you're sentient and s-sapient? Is thst the word?] Michael almost walked into a pillar out front while trying to dig through his noggin for answers, and had to quickly swerve around before making himself look like a huge dork.

Already too late for that, tbh, but it was a valiant effort.

[Whatever. Point being, it's OK to have feelings and stuff, Ted. Doesn't matter what you came from.] God, it was nice to be outside. It didn't smell great - he was still in New Jersey - but it was way less anxiety inducing than the hospital. Of course, he was still having to get into his kinda gross car, but still.

\--

Ted sighed a little bit as they continued to walk out of the hospital. He watched Michael talk, considering his words, glancing away a bit in... exasperation? Expectance? He let out a tense chuckle. [Michael I— I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know if I qualify as a person. I have the mind and programming of a computer. I follow an objective, and my personality is built around that objective.]

Ted blinks a little as he thinks a little harder. He looks at his hands, flipping them over.  
[Im not even sure how to judge my own sentience.]

[—Nevertheless, we don’t have to get all philosophical.]

\--

Ah, he didn't mean to make Ted upset. Quick, change course. [So, uh, what's next? We're doing OK on time, right?] Michael said, throwing up a smile. [How're we gonna sneak the red in? A flask or something? My moms will kill me for stealing one of theirs, but it'd be worth it.]

Michael winced at his own small talk and rolled his shoulders, getting into the car. [Uh, can you keep an eye out for Rich's weird horror squip? Just in case? I don't want him to have to go through that again.] After starting the car up, he sighed, leaning against the steering wheel. [I'm gonna be so glad when today's over, dude. It's like, barely started and I'm exhausted.]

\--

Again, Ted let out a bit of a sigh. [Michael, it's impossible for you to upset me. I'm a machine, but I suppose i appreciate the sentiment either way.] He offers a gentle smile, tilting his head slightly as to make proper eye contact with Michael. Casually appearing in the passenger's seat, he buckled up, as he typically does. [A flask wouldn't be a bad idea, but you're going to have some trouble sneaking a flask into a school play. I suggest one of those dumb mini-waterbottles that all white soccer moms have in the purses. With the wrinkled labels. Those ones.]

He leaned back in his seat a little further. His eyebrow twitched slightly at the mention of Rich's twisted, strange squip. He blinked a little, staring at his knees, remembering the twisted woman. It... scared him. [I don't think she's going to be able to come back that easily. I mean-- she was directly hit with Red. Its going to be hard to come back from that. But I'll keep an eye out for any activity surrounding Rich's unit.]

A sigh. [It's going to be a bit longer before we solve this problem, so try your best to keep your head up, Mike. Look on the bright side! We helped Rich feel better-- and destroyed his squip.]

\--

Michael is quiet, for a bit, getting himself buckled in and resting his head against the steering wheel. [I'm...yeah. You're right. I just need to...relax? I guess? I keep working myself up.]

He took a different route than usual, taking a little longer since it was still somewhat early. It was scenic - as scenic as NJ could get, anyway - and let him just zone out for a little while. It was nice and peaceful, and he felt safe. The cool interior of the car and the quiet rumbles of passing cars did wonders for his mood. It'd be nice if he could do it more often, but he had a hard time convincing just about anyone to ride along with him, besides Jeremy. Maybe they could all go on a road trip, someday.

[We really did good in there, dude,] he mentioned off-handedly , slowly making his way back to the main roads. [Thanks for your help with the hands, I was so nervous I was gonna accidentally splash it all over Rich. I know you're right, about his squip, but it still makes me wary, you know?]

Michael winced, as they hit a snarl of traffic. [Also, being around Red makes me feel like...nervous as hell, now. I'm glad we got you doubled up.]

\--

Oh? Ted sort of perked up at Michael's newfound feeling of discomfort around Red. That's something mildly unexpected. One would expect Michael to be amiable towards vintage sodas, but to be actively nervous around one, especially such an important one? Its small, but Ted didn't quite see it coming. Ted looked out the window, admiring the limited view.

A road trip would be nice, actually. Small, confined spaces and collaborative conversation often make for some really good human bonding, and would be crazy beneficial for Michael's mental health after this whole ordeal. Ideally, Michael wouldn't be involved. But also ideally, the world would be taken over. Give or take a few, y'know.

He was called back to attention when Michael spoke again. [Oh-- yes. You're very welcome. Its always my pleasure to help out. It was important for both of your well-beings. If I'm being honest, handling Red like that made me nervous too.]

[Almost wanted to just-- pour it out.]

\--

[I'm -]

Man, he didn't wanna admit how there was a spark of something when Ted mentioned pouring it out. He stomped it out pretty quickly, but that didn't erase the fact that it was there in the first place.

[After all the trouble we went through, dude? That'd be nuts.] Michael decided to laugh it off. He knew Ted was fighting against his programming, he'd be fine. Right? [Plus, it kinda seems like Jeremy's squip is just as abusive as his mom was. We need to make sure he's safe.]

Michael pulled back up at home, intent on getting the small bottle of Red fixed up, even if it made him nervous. [Do you need another Volt or anything? It feels weird knowing all those flavor names are basically like, secret code for squip stuff.]

\--

Don't forget, Michael, Ted can feel what you feel. He knows that you felt a little twinge of desire and instinct. He also knows that it isnt neccesarily a good sign. He's trying to ignore it, too. With a quick scoff, he moves on. [Tcch- yes, that would be SUCH an obnoxious waste! SO inefficient. My perfect robot brain could NEVER allow this to happen!] Tease tease. But when he mentions Jeremy's mom, Ted gives a solid and determined nod. They have a mission!

Ted teleported outside of the car, standing near the door of Michael's house. [Not unless you feel like drinking another Voltage. And yes-- almost every flavour has some sort of effect on squip software, temporary or perminant.]

\--

The teasing works, as per usual - Michael cracks up and rolls his eyes. [If you starting singing about daisies or the word "hate", I'm yeeting the both of us off a cliff.] See? He can tease, too. [But if you wanna help with, you know, math and stuff, be my guest.]

The red got shoved onto the kitchen counter and Michael busied himself with searching for water bottles. He knew his mama in particular kept some around for emergencies or power outages, he just had to remember where the hell they were. [So, what's like the best way to get him to drink it? Throw it at him? You'd need to help me with aiming, I can't throw for shit. One time I almost took out a teacher with my backpack.]

There was a concerning amount of shuffling, shrieking, and thuds coming from tbe pantry, but eventually, Michael emerged. He was clutching a water bottle like it was precious cargo, a sheepish smile on his face and way too dusty from the rummaging.

[So, I just pour some in here and I'm good to go, right? I can store the rest of the bottle in my closet or something.]

\--

Ted sat on the counter, staring at the Red that was shoved next to him. Observing it silently, almost with a grim expression, he had to look away from it in order to reassure himself of his safety. It wasn't that he was scared of being unsafe or in danger, but somewhat of a programmed instinct to distance oneself from Red. [The best way to get him to drink it is to play a Squip's own game against it. It's a little bit of foul play, but Squips have a bit of specific physical combat in case they ever need to force someone into drinking a beverage. The trick is to hold their nose so that they will have to drink whats in their mouth in order to breathe. A little nasty, but it'll get the job done.]

Ted watched Mike emerge with raised eyebrows, glancing him up and down. Dusty boy. [Yes, that ought to do! Pour the water out and simply transfer some of the Red into the empty bottle.]

\--

[Yeah, that tracks, given what I've learned so far about squips.] Michael dusted himself off and busied himself with emptying out the bottle. [I'm not thrilled about having to attack Jeremy but, you know.]

Alright, go time. Just gotta. Just gotta take the red, and pour it into the smaller bottle. It didn't smell great - the soda was almost twice his age, how could it smell anything but fruity and off? It didn't take long, and Michael capped the both of them off with a sigh. [Okay. The deed is done. Next up is Jeremy's house, right?]

Ugh, he desperately needed to wash his hands, he didn't like the feeling of the few drops on his skin. Old soda always left a weird and kinda greasy residue, something akin to a caffeinated biohazard. Tucking the bigger bottle away didn't take long at all, either, and Michael found himself kind of fidgeting, staring at his closet. The red was taken care of, Rich was taken care of, and the play was rapidly approaching.

[I know I said this before but, I'm so glad you're here. I dunno how I could do this alone,] he mumbled, finding an old and kind of ragged blue hoodie to wear out. He felt weird without his signature jacket, but Rich had needed it it way more.

\--

Hopping off the counter, Ted found himself staring at the closet, similarily pondering the rest of the day's events to come. Rich had been taken care of. The Red had been prepared. Everything was starting to fall into place, and things were being set into motion that they wouldn't be able to rewind. Ted's dilemmas were a little more analytical, as he began to sculpt out what the future might look like with his quantum vision. What Jeremy's Squip would say upon Michael's arrival, the positioning and movements, just like pieces in a dangerous game of chess. The real question is how they would take out the king.

His mental monologue was interrupted by Michael. He looked over to him, smiling a little bit. [I'm glad I'm here too. You're quite the kind host, and I couldnt hope for a better person to kick some holo-ass with.]

[The next stop is Jeremy's house. We need to speak to someone.]


	17. To Cry Into Someones Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael hugs a dad.  
Ted processes data.  
Mr. Heere has an important conversation.
> 
> Michael and Ted don't do much.  
Michael and Mr. Heere make an important connection.

With the small bottle tucked away in his hoodie, Michael grinned up at Ted and made his way back outside. [Jeremy's house is pretty close, so this won't take long.] Back into the car they went. Eventually, he was gonna ask Jeremy to comp him for gas, if he could. He was worth it, but his wallet was crying pretty hard.

[How do I handle, uh, Jeremy's house? Talking with his dad is always so awkward.] Michael maneuvered the pt cruiser around a roundabout - it wasn't easy, or graceful, but they managed. [He's depressed, like, really depressed, and I sorta get it, but the dude barely wears pants.]

Probably due to the whole divorce thing, he thought, but still. Jeremy had needed him to step it up a little, and that so didn't happen. His dad meant well, but sometimes meaning well wasn't quite enough.

\--

[Its an awkward request, but I envision a future in which its essential for Mr. Heere to have somewhat of an uplifting moment. You may or may not play a vital part in this uplifting, but I predict it won't be a huge toll on your psyche. Score one for Michael's poor, poor psyche.]

[You know, I can, in theory, connect to jeremy's banking account and transfer money to your account. Who needs to ask for money when you can simply steal it. Be gay, do crimes, as the tumblr kids say.]

Ted crossed his legs in the passenger seat, making sure that nothing happened to the fragile bottle. As long as the bottle was kept safe, nothing would go off the rails super badly. It could, of course, go off the rails super badly, but its a very low chance of the rails being completely abandoned.

\--

[Oh! Oh right, I forget about the quantum thing, sometimes.] They pulled up in front of Jeremy's house, and Michael saw that the car was already gone. [Yeah, that's a good thing, the dude could use some uplifting. And pants. Definitely pants. I'm super not for hacking his bank account, though I gotta admit, hearing you say be gay, do crimes is,] Michael mimed a chefs kiss, while trying not to laugh. [Amazing.]

The air was weird when Michael left the car. It was hard to place, but given the low lighting in the house and a crisp, chilly breeze whipping around him, he couldn't really be blamed for finding the atmosphere a little spooky. He knocked in the door, as firmly as he could manage, and waited. He hoped Jeremy's dad was actually around, it was cold.

\--

Ted nodded a little, with a shrugging chuckle. [What can I say? I aim to please, especially on a tense day like this. If it takes every gay joke on the internet to crack a smile, I’d be glad to recite them.] Aww, that’s sorta sweet! A little less sweet when you consider he probably could do that exact thing, possibly forever.

Walking next to him, Ted buried his hands in his pockets, waiting beside Michael with a suave posture as he knocked. [If my calculations are correct, he should be showing up right a—]

Ted is cut off by the door suddenly opening. Behind it is Mr. Heere, looking kinda frazzled. He’s got a determined look in his eyes, which quickly slides into surprise at Michael’s arrival. “Oh my god, Michael! Just the kid I wanted to see! Quick, come in, it’s crazy cold.”

\--

"I, uh, bwuh," Michael blurted out, being ushered in the door. "It, it really is, Mr. Heere. Are uh, you ok?"

Being back here felt...weird. Nostalgic. This was probably the longest he'd gone without being here since elementary school. It still smelled the same - like pizza and febreeze - but he couldn't help but notice just how haggard and tired Jeremy's dad and looked.

Jeremy was noticeably not there. What a weird thing to say, right? There's was a noticeable air of something missing, a feeling that made Michael's hair stand on end, as much as he couldn't really put a name to it. It made him want to bolt, but he shook himself out of it and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"I, um, noticed Jeremy is gone. Did he already leave for the play?" Michael asked, knowing the answer already.

\--

Mr. Heere quickly shut the door behind Michael, shuffling over to the table and... actually clearing away some trash in order to make the house seem slightly more presentable. That’s a first...

Ted, on the other hand, was looking around at the messy house. This was his first time being here, and it’s a little concerning. [So this is where Jeremy lives. I can see why he was so desperate to make a change... sad it was a change in the wrong direction.]

Quickly, Mr. Heere spun around to face Michael. “Yes, he left a few hours ago in order to make it to school on time.” He tilted his head, before putting his hands on his hips. “Hey— why aren’t you at school, young man! Arson is no reason to be cutting class— well, no, wait— that is a pretty good reason...”

“Wait— why are you here? I was going to go to find you?”

\--

"I um, I'm...worried about him. It's been rough lately, for like, everything." Michael slumped into a familiar chair, absent-mindedly noting the clean up effort. He smiled, even if it was tired and a little on the small side. That was good. "We had a fight the other day and it's been pretty messy. He's changed a lot. How...have things been on here? He hasn't invited me over, lately."

[Uh, am I saying the right things? At least Mr. Heere seems fired up.] Michael thought at Ted, watching the cleanup effort while sort of melting onto the table. It was still pretty messy but, a regular amount of messy instead of concerning messy. [Jeremy's home life has been kinda hard for him for a long time. I tried to help but it uh. Wasn't ever really enough.]

\--

Ted nods pensively-- seems like Mr. Heere WAS rather fired up about something. He tilted his head as he watched him shake his head, staring at the ground as he tried to think of a reply. "Somethings really wrong with that boy, I just know it. He snapped at me this morning. Hes acting like a whole new person, with all these horrible, destructive personality traits to go along with it. I-I mean, I asked him what was up, and he gave me some horseshit about some SUPERCOMPUTER thing, pardon my language."

Ted glanced around somewhat nervously. Hes also a supercomputer thing. "He's gonna end up losing himself to whatever weird peer pressure hes gotten into, and I don't want him to forget what a sweet and kind person he can be!" He sighs a little, arms drooping. "I mean, I haven't really been there to support him. I guess part of that is on me, for not really being a dad."

\--

Michael hesitated a little, but reached out and gently (awkwardly) patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah, he's been under a lot of pressure here lately, from some seriously shitty people. I'm going to head to the play after this to confront him about it."

Pat, pat. After a while, he pulled his arm back and made sure Jeremy's dad saw what he hoped was a supportive enough expression. Granted, he was cribbing from Ted a little here, but it'd worked pretty well before. Here goes nothing. "I care about you and Jeremy a lot, Mr. Heere, and I'm glad you're doing a little better. I'm sure Jeremy will come around when he sees you coming around, too. I know things have been hard ever since, you know."

Michael was kind of pulling this out of his ass, but also not - he knew Mr. Heere, he knew what had happened, and he knew how to use a soothing tone from Ted using it on him pretty frequently lately. Jeremy's dad looked about how he'd felt the morning he took the squip. Afraid, tired, and determined. He'd almost lost a son, though he didn't know it. So why not help him, like he'd been helped?

It didn't matter that the words coming out were a little unsteady, with shaky pauses in between. They were still said, and that meant the world to people.

"And...and you aren't a bad dad, okay? Depressed and pantsless, sure, but...Jeremy was feeling the same way. And, he could use a dad who understands and helps him through this, okay?" If Michael was being honest, this little speech was also him working out some nerves and talking himself up, but still. He wasn't good with silence, lately, and he was still kind of jittery.

\--

Mr. Heere certainly doesn't expect the gesture. He was expecting to do something like that to Michael, but he appreciates the action nonetheless. Listening to his encouragement, theres some sort of recogition in his eyes, like he knows these words to be true. Sometimes, you just have to hear them again to understand what they mean for other people. He listened to Michael's tone of voice-- a tone that is experienced, a tone that knows what its doing. A tone that he doesn't think Michael has. He doesnt really question it, though. They have too many things to deal with now.

Nodding, he smiles in a fatherly way to Michael. His eyes crinkled with a smile. "Thank you, Michael. I... really do care about you too. You and Jeremy, you're always so close, and I wanna make sure you're doing ok too." He sighed a little at the fatherly commentary. "I know im not a bad dad, but I've been an absent one, and that you cant deny. I've just been too scared to do anything, and now it seems like its getting to be too late. I wanna be able to turn this around, I want to be there for him-- and you too."

"So-- I wanted to make sure that neither of us give up on him, okay? That we both stick it out and make sure that we all pull through. Even if he's being a little shit right now, we need to be there for him. You're his best friend, I'm his dad, and we're two of the most important things in his life. We gotta make sure he stays on track."

\--

The room was quiet, for a moment. The soft mumbles of a nature documentary wafted through from a far off room, and the light shone through the sort of busted back windows. Dust motes floated through the air. It was some really, really poetic scenery, but Michael wasn't paying attention to any of it.

Instead, he got up, and surprised himself. With a bit of a yelp as he almost fell over getting out of his chair, he gave Jeremy's dad a bear hug, burying his head on his shoulder. He wasn't crying, shut up. He was getting those poetic dust motes out of his eyes.

"He's such a shithead. Jeremy's a massive asshole, and a jerk, and I can't, I can't lose my best friend." OK, yeah, he's crying. Gross crying. Jeremy's dad probably needs to change robes after this crying. "I'm, it means a lot, Mr. Heere, I have no freaking clue what I'm doing. I just drink ecto-coolers and get - burn incense, this is so not my specialty."

\--

And there it is. Michael, since he has two mothers, is likely lacking in a paternal figure, which Mr. Heere has likely become. Upon hugging him, Mr. Heere wraps his arms around him in a tight, safe hug. Its different than the hugs that Ted gives. Ted's hugs are perfectly calculated, not too uncomfortable, but firm. Mr. Heere's hugs are splendidly human-- too tight in some places, a little lacking in others, but its warm and safe and really great to cry in. He rubs Michael's back a little, a few tears dotting the edges of his own eyes.

"Hey, hey now cadet, its alright. Hes a little bastard, but hes our little bastard."

Mr. Heere knows Michael well. He's known him for as long as Jeremy has known him, logically. He knows his favourite kind of pizza, his favourite subject in school, he knows his favourite video games and exactly which pieces of merch to get him for his birthdays (as directed by Jeremy, of course). So, Mr. Heere knows that something is wrong with Michael. Firstly, he had come to Jeremy's house, seemingly without reason, which seems really coincidental. Secondly, he barely reacted to any of the strange things hes mentioned about Jeremy's behaviour, meaning he knows all about it... and is unaffected. This seems a bit unusual for Michael 'over-empathetic and crazy emotional' Mell, especially from his best friend. Thirdly, Michael is crying pretty darn hard here, meaning hes been holding something in for a while, without the proper support.

"Is there something wrong, slugger? Like, really really wrong?"

\--

Oh.

Oh. This felt really, really comforting. Michael didn't realize just how much he needed this, a warm hug from someone who knew and loved him. He'd missed this, needed this, so, so much. World cold and hard, father figures hugs warm and soft. Even if he smelled like pepperoni.

"We, we got into a fight at that party, and he called me a loser, and he's been ignoring me, and I felt like a bad friend and his - his bully taunted me right after? Jeremy's always been there, and he hasn't been, and I've got a, a new friend who helps but it's still hard, you know?"

Michael barely caught himself before he could mention Ted or Jeremy's squip. Instead, he was sniffling onto Mr. Heere's shoulder as the tension from the last few days spilled out of him. "We've been friends for so long, and, I'm trying, but I've never felt this alone before, Mr. Heere. It's why I'm going to confront him. I gotta break him out of this before, before it's too late." He didn't really want to, but he finally got himself up from his shoulder and grimaced at what he left behind. "You might need to change. Kinda used your robe like a tissue. I'll, uh, I'm sorry."

The embarrassment was setting in pretty hard. He could probably light up a room at this point with how red his face was. "Though uh, could I, could I maybe hug you? More often? That was nice."

\--

Mr. Heere listened closely to Michael's plight. He was happy to give him comfort and to hold him when he needed to be held. Michael had had a pretty rough run. God, the poor kid! Jeremy's been on this crazy roller coaster of an evolution, and Michael's been stuck right in the thick of it! He lets Michael run out of steam, before he pulls back and mentions how gross his robe is. Mr. Heere chuckles, inspecting it. "It's alright, cadet, it was getting kinda dirty anyways. Besides, I'd rather it be dirty from someone letting their feelings out, than clean from someone keeping it all bottled up."

He kinda pulled Michael over to the couch, sitting down on it as he patted the seat next to him, offering it to Michael. "But, if you don't mind me asking, who's this bully? I mean, I know about Rich, he's a bit of a troublemaker, that one, but I saw on the news that he set the fire the other night. I'm just not sure how Rich could tease you from the hospital..."

"And-- whos this new friend of yours? I'd love to meet them, if they're being a help to you AND helping you deal with all this crazy crap."

\--

He didn't so much sit down as gratefully collapse into the sofa, leaning a little on Mr. Heere's shoulder. "They uh, they both go to J. P. Steven's High, Mr. Heere. Jeremy and I met them through World of Warcraft, before all this happened."

Oof, smooth, Michael. Hopefully Mr. Heere bought it, he was really out of his depth here. He didn't really know what else to say - Ted was being considerate and quiet and off to the side, and he knew he couldn't really look over there without Mr. Heere catching him. "Cyber bullying fucking sucks," he laughed out, weakly. That wasn't a lie, at least. "Sorry for the f-bomb."

If he wasn't careful, Jeremy's dad would get all the information out of him he wanted. Michael blew his nose and kind of patted Mr. Heere's knee, hoping to distract him. "I've got talking to Jeremy tonight covered, but while I do that, can you go buy some pants? Even like, jorts. Something."

\--

Mr. Heere shifted so he was easier to rest on, dipping his shoulder down to allow access to Michael's head. And he listened closely. He listened to how Michael was talking, how he was carrying himself. J. P. Stevens did indeed exist. He gave a tense sigh, hearing what he had to say about cyberbullying. He shook his head a little bit.

"Michael, I know you're a smart boy, you've got a real sturdy head on those shoulders. I know you know better than to open yourself up to cyberbullying like that."

So Mr. Heere let out a long breath from his nose, wrapping an arm around Michael. "I know you pretty well, Mikey. You and Jeremy, both. I... I know when you don't want me to know something, that much is pretty darn clear. But that part is okay. If you don't want me to know something, I won't pry. If its important enough to keep away from-- from the dangerous ears of grown-ups-" He chuckles. "-than its something thats important enough to you to keep. I just want you to know that you can tell me anything, okay? Even if its the truth, and even if the truth is... kinda weird. Trust me, I'd rather hear the truth than walk in on it. The things I've read over Jeremy's shoulder..." A joking shudder.

"Oh, and yes- of course, slugger. Pants are on the menu. for-- for buying. Not eating." Smooth.

Meanwhile, Ted was leaning against the wall across the room, analyzing the fatherly interaction, learning from Mr. Heere's behaviour and additude. How can he apply this to further personality development?

\--

Michael dot exe was crashing, and hard. He didn't have the coping mechanisms to deal with this much affection. "It's - I want to, but if I explain, it's - just -"

Fuck, what was he going to say? That he had a supercomputer in his head, technically two, that he was basically on his way to stop an apocalypse? That he was going to shut down Jeremy's supercomputer while defending his own? He couldn't. Jeremy's dad wouldn't get it and at the worst throw him out of the house and into the cold. So how was he going to talk his way out of this and get the hell out of here? He was on the verge of panicking.

Instead of bolting or freaking out, Michael just leaned further in. "I will, I promise, but I can't tonight. It's - there's a lot riding on tonight, Mr. Heere. Jeremy can help me explain later. Just um, keep your phone on, OK?" he paused, taking a deep breath. "If, I'm, thank you. It means a lot that there's other people there. You're, like, my third parent at this point, basically."

He knew he was acting shady, and the lull of comfort was keeping him glued to the couch. Michael was torn on what to even do. He wasn't expecting this dad q & a from Mr. Heere when he knocked on the door, and he knew for a fact his poker face was terrible. It gave him the warm fuzzies Mr. Heere cared that much, but it super threw a wrench into his thought process.

[Ted please help me out here, I don't know how to handle all this dad stuff. Should I just tell him? Will he hate me if I tell him the truth?]

\--

Almost instantly, Ted replied, as if he had been keeping a silent quantum prediction in his pocket the whole time. [He won't hate you. Absolutely not, I am completely certain of it. Do you think a man like that is capable of hatred? He called Rich a 'troublemaker'. He committed arson.]

Mr. Heere sprang into rather calm action. "Woah, woah-- okay! It's okay. You don't have to tell me if it makes you that scared and nervous. Again, I understand the need for secrets. It's a whole thing with keeping your kids security in mind, establishing privacy, trust... I get it! I really do. But you gotta know that I'm here to listen to any problems you might have. I might not understand them at all, but I'll absolutely try my best to help out." Hes speaking with a new conviction. Like someone who really is going to try being a good listener, a good helper, and FINALLY, a good father.

"After tonight, can we like, sit down and have a long talk or something? You know how my moms are, it's hard to like...vent to them." Michael was back in big ol embarrassed tomato mode, but he still smiled at Mr. Heere. "You're gonna do great with helping Jeremy, I promise. And I'll try super hard, too."

He stood, a little wobbly, and gave Mr. Heere a pretty dorky thumbs up. "It's gonna sound so weird though, fair warning. Weird enough that you're probably gonna think we're - I'm making it up."

Awkward as he was with handling it, coming here had been a really good idea. Michael felt like a ten ton weight had been lifted off his chest. Wild what a hug and a couple nicknames can do for a touch starved kid. Seeing Mr. Heere look so determined and ready to (calmly) throw down gave him a lot of hope, too.

\--

Mr Heere stood up shortly after Michael, getting his footing a little better than he had. "Course, pal. I mean, your mothers are lovely ladies, but sometimes they can be a little... rigid." Hes trying so hard to not say anything that might come off as rude about his moms. He really did think they were great-- super proactive and ready for action ALL the time. He doesnt know how they do it! Someday he wishes that he'll recover enough to be like that. He's sure it'll happen.

He nods at Michael's reassurances, patting him firmly on the shoulder, before tilting his head slightly at the mention of an unbeliveable story. "We? Jeez, there must be more to this than I anticipated." He shook his head a little. "Whatever the case is, I'd be glad to sit down and listen to what you two have to say. I'm gonna start communicating more, and this is a great way to get that start going. And you're gonna do awesome confronting him tonight, whatever that plan happens to be. Gonna run onstage in the middle of his performance and 'call him out', as the teens say?"

\--

"That uh, was my first plan, but now I've got someone to help me out with the whole, you know, strategizing thing." Michael leaned in for another hug, lightly this time, and started inching his way towards the door. "I'm really glad I came here, today. And I swear, I'll tell you. It just, might take a while."

Michael paused, not much farther than where he'd started. Next stop? He wanted to say Destiny, or something cool like that, but nothing rad enough came to mind. Next stop was a sweaty high school and a bad play. Probably a few squip zombies, too.

And saving Jeremy from himself. That was a pretty important thing.

"Thanks, Mr. Heere, for today. And I'll text you an update after it's all said and done, OK?" He'd probably have issues texting when he was fending off squips, but it's the thought that counts. That, and he was pretty sure he'd need the fatherly support just in case everything got messy.

\--

He was happy to take the hug, however light or intense it might be. Giving him a quick pat on the back, he watched as Michael began to set off towards the rest of his crazy, strange, bizzare adventure. "Hey, I'm willing to be patient, as long as you say what you gotta say in the end. I'm here to listen, remember that!" He let Michael go, as Ted pushed himself off the wall, walking past Mr. Heere. He gave him a long look as he passed by, tilting his head a little as if he was analyzing him, deciding on what he should see him as. Eventually, Ted gave a smile and a nod to the fatherly figure, as he moved to join Michael's side.

"I'll keep my phone on, buddy. I don't know what help I might be, but I'd be glad to lend a hand anyways."

\--

"I am, so bad at wording stuff like this and I don't know how to process all this uh, affection, so I'm sorry if it seems like I'm bolting?" Michael laughed sheepishly. "Thanks, Mr. Heere. I'll let you know how it goes, OK?"

Michael waited until he was safely inside his car before groaning pretty loudly and leaning back. [I don't know how to do feelings like this,] he lamented, throwing a dash of dramatics into his voice. [I hope I didn't blow it when I left like that. My mom's aren't thst affectionate and me and you can only sort of hug. Jeremy and haven't hugged in ages. I wasn't expecting, you know, dad hugs.]

He paused. [Hugs doesn't sound like a real word, anymore.]

\--

Blinking a bit at the sudden confession, Mr. Heere couldnt do much but shrug suddenly and give a thumbs up! "All the best luck, slugger! Knock 'em dead!"


	18. To Ride A Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael pats the air.  
Ted calculates some coins.
> 
> Michael and Ted enjoy the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy fellas! its time for an update! we're getting really close to the play so thanks for reading it and stuff! if you like the fic remember to leave a comment and suggest it to ur friends and stuff ok bye!!!

As the door of the car shut behind him, Ted crossed his legs in the passengers seat. Watching Michael, he leaned on the armrest, holding up his head with a closed fist. [Please, it's hard to 'blow it' when you're telling a father figure about how you truly feel. Fathers love knowing how child figures truly feel. At least-- good fathers, that care about their offspring. And yes, it can feel a little foreign to be without physical affection for such a long time, then receive such attention in surplus.]

\--

Michael kept his head on the steering wheel but gave a lazy thumbs up. [Yeah, you're right. Still awkward, though. There were a couple times I almost called him Dad, but,] he trailed off, staring at nothing for a bit. [He probably wouldn't mind, huh.]

[Anyway! Where to now, mon capitan? Squipitan? Whatever.] He lifted himself up and did a couple stretches. Can't save the world while sore and cramped. While he still felt that ongoing nervousness, Mr. Heere had helped him calm down immensely, and helped give him hope he could do this. [Is it too early to head to the school?]

He really didn't know how to deal with affection, from most people. Michael was a little more used to giving it, rather than receiving it, besides Jeremy of course. And sometimes his moms. He still kinda thought Mr. Heere would get annoyed with him? And what would Jeremy -

Anyway.

He was just gonna shove it down as per usual and focus on way more important things.

\--

Shaking his head a little bit, Ted sighed shallowly. [Predicting his behaviour, he probably would have cried if you had called him ‘dad’. Like, you would have left, and then he would start cleaning, and then it would hit him, and then he would start sobbing and take a moment to recollect himself. Honestly, anything you say to Mr. Heere can barely have a negative impact. It’s Mr. Heere. His son snuck out of the house and almost burnt in a house fire, and all he wanted to do was be nice and take care of him. He traded in all the mean bones in his body for being a pushover (in a nice way) and a lack of pants.]

Taking a breath, Ted sat forward in his chair, pulling a screen and looking much more focused. The screen quickly became two, then three as he began to analyze the timeframes needed. [Its about 3:30 pm. The Play starts at 7. We have time for about one or two more stops until the grand event. We could drop by the school and do some recon on Jeremy, see what he’s doing. We could stop by your house to... emotionally prepare, we could...]  
Ted shrugged. [...call your mom’s? I dunno. I’ve never really had to plan an anti-apocalypse themed day event.]

\--

[I don't think scoping out Jeremy would be a good idea - it'd really raise the likelihood we'd be caught, y'know?] Michael went ahead and started the car up, backing out and meandering down the street. He wasn't really going anywhere in particular, but it helped to have something to do with his hands. [And I uh...my mom's are at work. They wouldn't answer, anyway.]

Michael was quiet for a little while, mostly just enjoying the calm silence. He knew Ted was right - Mr. Heere may not be the world's greatest dad, but he was basically a big softy. He just didn't really know how he felt calling him dad, when if tonight didn't go well...

But it wasn't really helping, focusing on the what ifs. Instead, he threw a grin Ted's way. [What about hitting up the arcade at the mall? Nobodys ever there, and we can chill out for a bit while I kick your ass at a racing game. We could go home, but...I dunno. Too many memories to really chill out right now.]

\--

A chuckle. [Oh really? Think you can beat a supercomputer at a racing game? Jeez, Michael. I underestimated exactly how much hubris was in that little soft body of yours.] Ted chuckled, leaning back in the chair as he dismissed the screens, crossing his legs politely.

A sigh. [Tonight is going to go great. We are going to kick so much ass, save so much world, be so incredibly cool, and have a great story to tell to people who won’t believe you until I prove it to be real by making myself known.]

\--

Michael laughed. [Listen, dude, I'm just throwing out ideas here. And what fun is it having a supercomputer in my head - two supercomputers - if I can't challenge you at whatever games I can get my apparently soft hands on?] He waggled his hands for emphasis. [Once a dork and a loser, always a dork at a loser. Might as well have fun with it.]

With a somewhat set destination in mind, Michael felt a little more relaxed, and leaned back a little in his seat. Plans were good, sometimes. Especially when you're saving the world. The radio was softly playing some random calypso CD he'd forgotten was in there while they meandered through the only sort of clogged streets, passing by normal, everyday people doing normal things.

He'd make sure they never knew how close they were to losing their normality. Which sounded like a badass line in his head but, really it made him sound like he was a doofus.

[How would you make yourself known, exactly?] Michael wasn't thrown so much as curious. [Do I need to hit up a kinkos and make a big laminated printout of your head? I could carry it around on a stick, it'd be great.]

\--

Chucking softly, he folded his arms. [Soft human hands will never be able to beat my slightly more square, beefier man robot hands. Look at them.] Holds up a hand for emphasis, doing a grabby-grabby in the air. [This hand is designed to control the human mind, and kick ass at shitty motorcycle racing games.]

Ted watched as Michael relaxed a little more. Good! He’s not... tense. He’s probably scared about what’s to come, so taking a bit to relax and have some fun beforehand is really gonna help him out later on tonight.

Walking smartly behind Michael, Ted watched the passerby as well. [I mean, it kinda sounds cool when you think about the implications.] He gestures in the air. [Michael Mell: Teenage cyborg and super world saver. Blurring the line between human, machine, and absolute dipshit.]

Ted snorted at the suggestion. [Like— “oh, my evil robot friend? Here’s his face!” ’No, that’s Ted from Bill and Ted, Michael, are you on crack?’ And then I would appear on their phone like ‘no, he’s not on crack, he’s on supercomputers’, and then they’d flip out.]

\--

Oh he's definitely scared but, he's also kind of tired of being scared...again. It's a cycle. Thankfully, he has someone on his side this time around, someone who is currently wagging their hands in the air and boasting about the beefiness of the aforementioned hands.

[Michael "Soft Hands" Mell, along with his teammate Ted "Beef Hands" Squip, throwing down against evildoers.] He tried to do a flex for emphasis, but it just looked like he was cramped. [That'll show those assholes.]

They arrived at the mall without incident. It was...Menlo Park Mall. Same as it ever was. Dingy, kinda half abandoned, and an eternally half full parking lot. Michael was halfway convinced a bunch of people just abandoned their cars there.

[I dunno how to phrase this but, won't, won't showing up on people's phones be dangerous?] Please please please let him park without incident. Asphalt gods looked down upon him and granted him a space. A space toward the back, but a space. [I don't wanna confine you but I'm also nervous, you know?]  
...wait.

He blinked a few times, and smacked his own forehead. [You were joking. In response to my joke. I swear it's like I'm buffering, sometimes.] Michael cracked a sheepish grin before almost eating asphalt as he tumbled out of the car.

\--

Smiling proudly, ted folded his arms and sat perfectly in his passenger seat, gently waggling his foot as they continued on their journey. [With the combined power of at least four hands of varying hardness and texture? Unstoppable.]

As Michael parked neatly into his spot, Ted had been staring out of the window at the Mall itself. He’s clearly calculating SOMETHING, processing a little bit of data, something along the lines of the scary stockboy, Brent at Spencer’s... It’s all so complex, sometimes.

But at Michael’s lagging reply, Ted chuckled patiently. [Yes Mike, it was a funny joke. A me-me, as the cool teens might say. A goof. A— oh- watch your step,] Ted added, as he was now leaning on the side of the car, watching Michael leave the Cruiser.

\--

It was a little too late - Michael had already sort of careened into the car next to them, but thankfully, no alarm went off. [I swear to God, Ted, if you start calling them "maymays" next I will throw the both of us into the ocean,] he groaned, trying to get his bearings. [I don't think circuits do too great with saltwater. Though, we could maybe become cool ocean ghosts? So that's something.]

After he'd had a moment to dust himself off and avoid looking at Ted for a moment, he started to amble towards the entrance. [Percy's Penny Arcade isn't much to look at, fair warning - I think like, some of the games have been broken for years? Dude never really cared about us hanging out there all day, though.] It'd been a couple years since he'd hit the place up, but it always felt like a little, dilapidated, kind of musty slice of home.

\--

Cringing slightly at Mike’s trajectory, ted attempted to shrug it off. [Firstly, implying you’d even consider an epic double suicide over the word ‘may-may’. Secondly, unless you got saltwater into your BRAIN, I’d remain unharmed. And thirdly, I don’t have a spirit, so I couldn’t become a ghost. Consider your joke debunked.]

[Yes, I— am familiar with this location. It’s an important location in many of your memories. But I suppose there’s only so much I can learn from memory— it’ll be something different to actually be there.]

\--

[Yeah, you gotta really play the busted games in the weird corner to get the mood of the place.] As Mike got closer, he got just a touch more nervous. [Uh, not to like, ruin the mood, but are we gonna be like...ok here? That Payless dude kinda scared the hell out of me. I know I brought up this place but like....I dunno.] He fiddled with his hands a little as they went through the entrance. [I'm - I just need to play a couple rounds and I'll calm down. Sorry, dude.]

Percy's looked like, if someone's grandma's basement was a store in the mall. The carpet was a faded green, and the walls had a faded neon green and pink color scheme going on. A few games lay here and there - some fighting games, a racing game, some...shooter? And a coin pusher that Michael swore that absolutely no-one had ever won. The entire place was lit up by a single, brave LED fixture, and it all smelled like food court burritos.

Which is to say, Michael sighed in happiness as they entered. [So...watcha in the mood for playing?]

\--

[Oh, of course, how could I be so foolish. Naturally, you have to play the weird games in the corner. You know, the ones that are just a little off so that they might just be imported from the twilight zone?] Ted strides behind Michael, hands in his pockets, back perfectly straight, a beacon of Confidence and 80s fashion. [Dont worry about it, Michael. The Payless is far from the penny arcade, we shouldn’t get any trouble from there. Besides, we know what to do in case of it. Play spooky— and dumb. Playing dumb is most important.]

[And it’s okay, Michael. Feeling nervous is all a part of the human experience.] Ted scanned the room as the duo entered, raising a bit of a brow at the less-than-appealing colour pallete. He blinked confusedly at the sparse games, his electric eye catching the coin pusher. Ohohoho. He scans it from a distance, estimating how much money must be in there. And then he wants to investigate the integrity of the pile, and then the physics of the coin, and—

[The coin pusher. I have an idea.]

\--

[Listen, don't knock my weird liminal space corner. The games that reside there might be imported illegally, and desperately need to be protected.] Mike ambled good-naturedly over to the coin pusher, with an amused grin. [This thing has probably been here since before I was born, back when the arcade had like, a ton more games. Probably. I dunno, this whole thing could be a mafia front.]

Okay, pretty far from danger. Still. He was glad Ted was understanding.

[So what's the plan, here?]

\--

Have you ever seen Ted look excited? Probably once, when he was just getting into the hang on having two units to work with instead of one. Well, as Mike will soon come to realize, Ted gets very excited when presented with logic and strategy puzzles, such as...  
[This coin pusher-- the movement mechanism is designed to settle the coins without actually implementing force onto the others. It's essentially a glorified sifter. However-- everything has a tipping point, and even if it isnt apparent, you can just as easily make one.] Hes bent over this machine, allowing Michael to move to the front of it as he analyzed from the side.

Ted was pinpoint focused on this thing. Hes got a hand to his chin as he looks it over. A faint, thin line of blue light shines over it as Ted scans it quickly, making a simulation of the coin physics. He's incredibly eager, as his eyes go blank, an ocean of binary running over them as he speed-processes the data. It takes about 15 seconds, before Ted snaps back to life, a determined look on his face.  
[Alright, how much change do you have?]

\--

[Uhhhhhhhh, like, two dollars worth of quarters? Though, we can always get more. You look pretty excited, dude.] Michael was happy to see Ted excited - it was like seeing a friend get super into one of their hobbies. The scan was, well, like something out of sci-fi, which was sort of startling? But then again, he was literally hanging out with a super computer.

So.

Michael made a show of taking his sweet, sweet time doing finger stretches, stretching side to side, rolling his shoulders, and shooting Ted a smug grin. It was a test of endurance, at this point. [Sorry, I just gotta make sure I'm limber.]

\--

Yeah, get used to it, Mikey boy. Nothing but super cool sci-fi scans, dorkus talk and cool computer stuff from now on. Which honestly isnt something bad, to be honest. Ted was patiently taking the obnoxious stretches, nodding encouragingly. [Yes yes-- this is very important stuff. Your human muscles must be perfectly in tune in order to get this shot correctly!! I may need to borrow those human arms of yours in order to line the shot up, but if my calculations, quantum predictions and perfect timing is correct-- we will be at least 50$ richer in quarters.]

\--

Michael...froze. Oh no. Ted matched his standoff with pure enthusiasm. He didn't have a good defense for that. Especially from Ted. Shit.

[Fifty bucks? Are you serious?] Michael asked, finally giving up the ghost. He was beat. Slain by genuine intentions. [Feel free to borrow my body whenever, dude, we kind of share it now. I'm just surprised Percy kept that much in here, all this time.]

He paused for a brief moment. [If mafiosos start exploding out of the wall when we win, I'm expecting you to help me get the hell out of here.]

\--

[Please, I'm programmed with hundreds of martial arts techniques. I could use your meat puppet to fight off dozens of mafiosos.] Ted seems a little distant, a little more robotic. That's probably cause hes busy ANALYZING ARCADE GAME. God, he is excited about this game. Look at him. His youthful, Keanu glow. His weird bowl cut-ish hair. Do you think this supercomputer could ever hold any malice? Any ill-will? Any anger?

The answer is yes. This supercomputer will fuck you up.  
Just like how hes gonna fuck up this COIN PUSHER

[Alright, we're going to begin.] Michael felt his arms go cold and tingly, as he reached into his pocket and loaded a quarter into the machine.

\--

[I'm sorry, Ted.]. Michael made his voice as somber as he could, while trying not to crack up at the same time. It came out as a weird strangled noise. Smooth. [I...have terrible news. I have to diagnose you with being a huge dork, a nerd, and a geek. There is no cure.]

Man this thing with his arms was...weird. He was pretty OK with it - it was Ted doing it, it was fine - but it's weird to get an outside view of your own arms moving.

\--

[Tch, I knew i caught some disease from you. Dipshit disease is very contagious.] Michael's arms began to line up the shot, moving in such a specific way, it almost seemed like it was being adjusted by bare degrees. Ted continued to talk.

[But, being more serious, here, you aren't exactly wrong, and neither am I, for that matter. I'm a learning computer, perhaps the worlds most advanced. Along with this, Squips can be categorized as the most intelligent thing on the planet. Taking those two into consideration, and the fact thatt Squips adapt in order to be more compatible and comprehensive with their hosts overtime, it wouldn't shock me if i happened to be picking up residual traits from you and your brain functions, such as occasional swearing, excitement, and--]

Clink! The coin was flung. It landed quietly behind the pile of quarters. Doesnt seem like much is happening. Until...

SWOOSH! The pile is dumped into the square delivery slot, giving out a loud, satisfying jingle.

[An aptitude for arcade games.]

\--

[Whoa, that's - that's actually pretty cool, dude. Is there like, a patented program you use for learning traits? Or is it like, more like programs that set you up to develop your own learning processes?] Michael was a little caught off guard - the past few hours had been so emotional, that he'd kind of forgotten about the inner mechanics of Ted. You know, super smart, super helpful, super computer...ness, that sort of thing. [How does all that like, even make room for emo - oh. Oh!]

Michael couldn't help it - he cackled. "Holy shit! Nice!" He was alright at the games, sure, but this was one glittering mountain he'd never been able to scale. Consider yourself conquered, coin pusher, with a Ted and Mike branded flag on the summit.

[...wait. I'm not a dipshit!]

\--

Ted was silent as the coins fell down, smiling a little in satisfaction. His calculations had been perfectly correct! Ah, yes! Thats... somewhat reassuring, honestly. Ted knows some of the future, knows what it could be. But he doesn't quite know for sure. But to see that some of his calculations, however inconsequential, are correct? This gives him reassurance, and hope for tonight.

Come on, dont look at him like that. He tells Michael that everything is going to go perfectly, that they have it in the metaphorical bag, but to be honest, Ted is just as unsure as Mike is. All they can do is prepare, and then wail on Jeremy and his Squip like theres no tomorrow. With enough luck and science-y sounding words, anything is possible.

[Both. Learning computers have been around for YEARS now, but Squips are designed to replicate humans, as you can clearly see, i am taking the form of a human (supposedly). Essentially, they give us a bunch of building blocks and yell 'go for it' from the other room as they run away quickly.]

A light chuckle. [Yyyyes you are.]

\--

[No wonder syncing up is so weird and unstable - they let loose a bunch of digital toddlers in a playroom and locked you guys inside, ] Michael teased, laughing as much as he could with his inner voice. [Though, if you pick up my anxiety, my condolences, it can be hella difficult to deal with sometimes. Pretty sure Keanu would call us both breathtaking either way.]

Ted looked really, really content with himself, which was awesome, though it also sent a bit of a pang through his heart. Kind of reminded him of old times. Either way, it was nice to see. [Congrats, dude. Any plans for the winnings? We could just like, dump them on Jeremy from the rafters later or something.]

\--

[What, jsut pelt him with small metal discs? I'm almost certain that qualifies as assault in at least 3 states if you throw them hard enough. And yes-- your metaphor isnt neccessarily incorrect. We're experimental tech, thats what you were told when Jeremy bought his Squip. But he also said 'untested'. Which is a blatant lie. We have been tested many times. I cannot disclose the result of those tests, though. Thats top secret. And bad things may happen if I go searching for that info.]

Cough. [Anyways.]

[Now, with our Many quarters, I'm certain that it wouldn't hurt to play a few of these shitty, shitty games. We played my strategy/physics game, now you pick.]

\--

[I mean, yeah, it's experimental but like,] Michael took a second to try to find the right words, absently noting he could wave his hand around again, [One, I was basically paying like, half attention - I just figured they were bullshitting the both of us, and once I actually found out how you guys operated, kind of, I figured it was a "mad science" sort of experimental and not like...weird....programmy type stuff? I dunno, I'm outta my depth here, Ted, this stuff is confusing and half of it seems all kinds of made up. I kinda figured squips had someone pulling the strings behind the scenes, before, giving them orders or something.]

Michael huffed, making his way over to the racing games. Some sort of jetski game was his first pick - it looked yellow, and there was no way in hell it had started yellow, so he had to have Ted try it out. It was a right of passage. [Listen, you nerd, computer stuff aside, fight me. Or race me. We can do a fighting game later.]

\--

[...Mad science isn't neccesarily an incorrect way to phrase it. I mean, you dont neccessarily create a superintelligent race of mind-invading supercomputers just by fiddling around with a few wires, hoping for the best.] Ted seemed a little quiet, a little pensive about the topic, trying to be careful about what he says, and finding out that he can say more than he expected.

[There is someone pulling strings, Mike.]

But, his attention is quickly drawn to something else, as if completely forgetting his most recent statement even happened. [Fight you. In this little rinky-dink racing game? And you think you can win against a supercomputer?] A snide little smile-- as the coin tally on the machine chimed up to 8 tokens-- enough for two games, as Ted sat down on the second motorbike seat. [Bring it.]

\--

[Whoa, hold up, wait - you said you wouldn't feel safe looking up the results from the testing done, would you feel safe even giving me like....]

Michael trailed off. Ted had sounded...kinda worried? Maybe a little nervous? Should he even ask? [You know what, nevermind, it's OK. I don't wanna put you at risk or like, make what we have to do tonight more like, complicated. Even if that's concerning. And kind of - ANYWAY. I noticed you've called me Mike a couple times - I, uh, kinda like the nickname, not gonna lie.]

A couple awkward moments passed as Michael took a moment to kind of gather himself up. God, now he felt bad even bringing it up. [Awkward derailing I just did of our ongoing bullshittery aside, I'm totally gonna wreck you at this, you overgrown SNES.]

\--

Ted glanced up from focusing on the screen, a light 'hm?' accompanying his gaze. He looked barely confused, like Michael had suddenly brought up a topic that wasn't being discussed before. He blinked once or twice, before Michael cut himself off with the comment about his nickname. [Ah! Yes, I thought that using a nickname might be the more friendly option, as opposed to calling you 'Michael' in a somewhat robotic, intimidating tone all the time. Its nice!] Smile!!

[Tch-- Prepare to eat my digital dust, you overgrown, sentient clump of cells scraped from the sides of your mother's vaginal walls.]

\--

He - hm.

Let's just...focus on relaxing for now, and the fight that would happen later tonight. Then he could focus on whatever the fuck just happened with Ted. Michael could only focus on so much at once.

[Feel free to call me Mike from now on dude, and feel free to never, ever say that digital dust line ever again. That was traumatic just hearing it. I feel like my ears should be bleeding.] Michael - well, Mike, now, revved up the "engines." [ Be prepared to eat my jorts.]

The game itself sounded tinny, looked worse, and had a weird selection of ska music bopping along in the bathroom. Michael couldn't really tell you the name of it - what mattered was the colorful waves and the colorful curses that he was chucking at Ted whenever the other left him behind. His personal favorite was [digital toe fungus,] even if it wasn't necessarily his best insult ever.

\--

Focus focus. Something like focus is weird when youre an all-knowing, somewhat dipshitty supercomputer that used to have an ulterior motive. A supercomputer designed to be able to see the future, calcualte what to do next, process thoughts, all the while snipping at the host's inner thoughts. However, about half of these things Ted isn't doing right now, so most of his focus is on pretending to be human.

Yes, hes focusing on being flawed. It's honestly kinda hard! A literal aim-bot, trying to stop aiming? Do you know how hard that must be?  
Anyways, hes trying his best to make it a fair fight. Somewhere along the skill level of a cooler, older brother. Good at the game, but not perfect at it. Like a cool mentor. Which he is.

Ted's favourite retort so far had been [no u], which had been the most basic and simple of his replies.

\--

Michael was like, fairly sure the top scores would still be him and Jeremy, and he was trying to beat Ted. Desperately. If this was a Disney movie, inspirational music would have been playing.

It worked about as well as you might think it would. He wasn't expecting to win like, at all, but it was a pretty even mix. At one point Mike stopped bantering and focused so hard on the game that he swore he forgot to breathe - gotta be perfect, try and jump barriers to speedrun ahead of Ted, that sort of thing.

[So, what's something you wanna do after tonight is over?] Mike asked conversationally, after a particularly close race. He was leaning back in his seat, just kind of basking in the comfortable mood. Plus, the dim, low-res screen was making his eyes burn a little. [Could be anything, like, hobbies or projects or whatever.]

\--

[...Do you think i ought to have an answer for that?] Ted asked calmly, mimicking Michael's casual lean backwards. It honestly was a really clsoe race, but Ted had ended up winning. Besides, if Michael had won, he would know that Ted let him win, and it wouldnt have been a real victory. This was the best possible outcome-- Michael is satisfied in his efforts.

[Well, as long as you dont have any alternate plans for me, I plan to... continue helping you.] Hes quiet for a moment, before smiling a little. [I think we make a real good team, Mike. I'm good to follow along. I-- I don't think im much of a leader, anyhow. I mean, I was programmed in order to be under the command of someone else. I'm a guide, but I follow, too.]

[I'll follow you.]

\--

[I - I meant, like, your personal - listen, I kind of forget you're a computer sometimes,] Mike sputtered, caught entirely off guard. [But, that's, that's really kind of you. So uh, thank - thanks. Uh. Dude.]

Michael "how the fuck do I take compliments and like, the very concept of people believing in me but also, smooth" Mell, back atcha in the world's most rinky dink arcade.

[I uh, don't wanna like - make you feel like you've gotta do anything, dude.] Mike offered, once he'd picked the shards of his dignity off the floor. [As far as I'm concerned, you're a person who just so happens to live in my brain. I'm - I'm not much of a leader, or a fighter, either. Unless I gotta be. So, uh, I hope after tonight we can like...I dunno, just kinda, hang out?]

\--

Ted tilted his head a little bit, considering Mike's words. Now, he knows Mike pretty well at this point, even if Mike doesn't know Ted or himself as well. Hes right-- hes not much of a leader. Unfortunate for them, that makes two of them not quite experienced in telling people what to do and knowing the next step to take all the time and--

oh. wait.  
A confused look at Mike as he continues to talk, blinking with interest and focus to his words. Teds shoulders slumped a little as Mike suggested his inherent humanity, looking at the handlebars of the arcade game that he was just playing. He was playing a game for fun, with no real purpose to it. Like chess, or Skyrim.

Ted, staring at his hands in thought, quietly whispered. [...what am i doing?]  
Before looking up and cutting himself off. [I-- I appreciate the consideration of my opinion and preferences. But I-- I don't know if i can be considered a 'person' or an individual being, honestly. Not only is it against my code, but against my nature of existance.]

[But-- but then again.]  
A pause.  
[Ive been experiencing so many... habits that a normal Squip wouldn't exercise. Game-playing. Laughter. Meaningless jokes.]  
[I am unsure if I can be considered a perfect supercomputer, either.]

\--

[Oh, I - I'm sorry, dude, I didn't mean to make you feel like...bad, or anything, I promise.] Mike aimlessly kicked the side of the machine, and was figuratively kicking himself in the ass. He knew Ted wasn't comfortable with being considered a person, he shouldn't have brought it up. Seeing Ted look so morose and uncertain though...

[Hey, um. For what it's worth. I think being uncertain makes you more perfect than you realize,] Mike added softly, almost reaching over to pat Ted on the back but holding his hand back just slightly. [It's the beauty of living, you know. Being uncertain. You just - you gotta find someone to help you figure it out, be it a dorky supercomputer or a dorky loser. That way you can see things you would have never thought to look for on your own. I - I know I, part of the objective you set was easing up on uncertainty, but like...its comforting knowing you've got someone with you figuring it out as they go, just like you. It makes me more certain that being uncertain is okay. Does that make sense?]

A few moments passed as Mike tried to gather his thoughts, though the tinny and cheerful arcade music kind of cut the tension a little. In the end, he gave up, and tried to discretely wipe his eyes with his hoodie. [I can't believe this is all happening, but I'm glad I'm with someone just as bewildered as me.] Mike laughed, although it was quiet, and backed by the vocals of a cartoon surfer dude riding a sick wave.

\--

Ted sat silently, holding his arms, breathing deeply and listening to Mike's comfort. He noted Mike's action of comfort, even if he didn't go through with it. He appreciates the gesture, though, for what its worth. A sigh, but its a more relaxed sigh than before. You're breaking his iron will down, encouragement by encouragement.

[but--... But I'm not supposed to be alive, I'm-- i dont think im alive? But--] He was staring at the floor, eyes wide, almost as if he could cry, but didn't know how to. He just looks... confused.

[But if my... imperfect uncertainty can be of some... use to you, I... I'm glad that it is helping, somewhat, at least. Even if its hindering to me, i suppose, as long as its helping.]

A long sigh. [I'm... I'm glad that im here to help you in whichever way you see fit, Mike. But im-- I just feel confused. Which is strange.]

\--

[I - I didn't, didn't mean to, to hinder you Ted, I'm -] God, how was he stuttering and sputtering so much in his own brain? Every time he tried to pin down a thought and sort his words out he made things worse. [Listen, I'm, don't feel like if you're not like, absolutely certain of everything, you're not whole, okay? I've, I've been there and I...]

Okay. Breathe.

[It's okay to feel uncertain or confused or whatever. We'll figure it out together, okay?] Mike went for the back pat again, paused a moment, and went through with it anyway. If anyone passed by they saw a dork patting thin air with sympathy and understanding, but then again, this was a mall arcade. Nobody would be passing by. [I'm here for you, dude. I hope I can help you out as much as you've helped me.]

\--

Ah, the dorkus strikes again. Patting the air where something isn’t even there. Not a spirit, or a ghost, not even an imaginary friend. A true, fake, inhuman illusion that Mike has been tricked by. And Mike believes so deeply that this illusion, this lie, is human, that the illusion is beginning to think that might be the case. Ted doesn’t move from the touch.

A limp, almost pathetic chuckle. [—hah— you wouldn’t expect a host to help out a squip, and yet, aren’t we just the masters of breaking convention, aren’t we?]

[its just— strange. Being something that you were never supposed to— to be. I’m sure you know how I feel, mike. I’m not sure if I can feel, but I can— I can give it a shot, can’t I?]

\--

[It's gonna be a long journey, Ted, not gonna lie. Stuff can suck sometimes. But I'll be there with you every step of the way.] Mike grinned and did another couple pats before leaning back. [Look at us, dude. The only conventions we'd be caught dead in are like, game conventions? Maybe anime conventions? But we shouldn't risk it, the smell alone of the dealers room is probably enough to take out squips.]

Stretching, he turned back to the game screen and kinda rested his head on the controls a little, still sort of looking over. [I'll try not to bring the person thing up, I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, but I want you to know - that's how I see you. I can't even begin to like...do the whole mouth word thing about the past couple days but, it feels like we've been friends for years. Somehow. So...believe in the me that believes in you, Ted, renagade squip and nerd.]

\--

He took in the words slowly, like an over dried sponge finally being re-introduced to water, the hydrophobic mindset finding emotions hard to experience. He took a few moments to think, looking up at a fluorescent light from the bewildered terror that he stared at the floor.

Squips are designed to interface with their hosts after a long time, to become streamlined and a perfect working team. But Michael’s kindness and appreciation— Ted couldn’t have ever predicted it. He couldn’t have ever predicted his sentient conundrum, his emotional plight, his self-questioning, if he even has a self to question.

He quietly willed himself to reply. [—I’m, well, if you want to talk about it, I— I’m okay with it.] He sounded a little defeated, like he wanted to say something else. [—but yes it— it makes me unsure of myself. I’d rather be certain than uncertain, so to say.]

Ted smiled over at his friend. His, Ah, best friend.

[I’ll do just that, then, Mike, cyborg and ultimate dipshit.]

\--

The moment hung, golden, in the air for a while. It was a nice, comfortable silence, feeling like a warm mug of hot cocoa on a cold day.

It was a different sort of comfort than Mike found with anyone else - it felt warm, and inviting, but also electric, with a metallic bite to it. Friends, but friends who can and will kick ass. It wasn't visually poetic, really - they were two friends, chilling happily in a run down arcade in mall. In New Jersey.

Not everything needs to be poetic, though, to be a poem.

[Anyway, I'm totally gonna kick your ass this time, dweeb.] Mike said as monotone he could, before whipping around and trying to start the race up before Ted could react.

\--

Ted caught himself being rather wrapped up in the moment, finding himself at the will of Mike’s sudden game decision. His face lit up with a new confusion, looking back and forth between Mike and the arcade machine, quickly and bewilderedly sitting back in his seat, getting ready to race.

Ted swiped a hand past his eyes as a fragile, confident grin appeared.  
[Youre on.]

Mike would win that round.


	19. To Play Your Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael plays a part.  
Ted sets the stage.  
The Squip enters.  
Jeremy loses.
> 
> Michael and Ted execute their plan.  
The Squip and Jeremy meet an unexpected opponent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go!!! the play begins! make sure to like and comment and share with ur friends!!  
EDIT: re-formatted the squip's dialogue so it ACTUALLY SHOWS UP, ao3 does NOT like pointed brackets

It was a dark and stormy night.

Not stormy, more like gloomy, but you'd have to forgive Mike as he pulled up in front of Middleburough. It could have been a cardboard box in a field, he still would have described it as looking like a villainous castle. He'd kinda half hoped parking would be take a while, just to delay the inevitable, but for once it was easy to find a spot. [OK, full disclosure my dude, I'm scared as hell. I know we're as prepared as we can be, I'm still pretty scared.]

After putting it into park, Mike patted his jacket down. Yep. Bottle still there. Still intact.

Still...uncomfortable.

\--

The current time was about 6:47, and the play was scheduled to start at about 7:00 sharp, give or take a few minutes, no theatre production in high school is ever perfect.

Ted left the car, immediately pulling up a white screen to scroll back to his default appearance setting— that all too threatening John Wick Keanu look. Of course, now, Mike knows just about everything that Ted has to offer. Ted is no longer a threat to Michael.

He adjusts his suit collar, smoothing it out, running a hand through his perfectly floppy, evil hair. [As long as we’re disclosing feelings, I’m pretty scared as well. But, alas, destiny awaits. At least, whatever quantum equivalent of destiny I can predict.] Even with his deeper, suave default voice, Mike can EASILY pick out the nervous strain inside of his tone. He’s scared, but ready.

\--

[Glad I'm not the only scared as shit nerd here.] Mike took a minute to just, breathe. In, out. The arcade had definitely helped ease his worries, in more ways than one, but it was game time. It wasn't a game he could really throw into his bookshelf and put off playing, either, or one he could hide from.

Deep breaths. Jeremy is in there. He needs our help. We can help him.

[God, that whole look is so douchey. I'm so clad you have your regular cool look to fall back on.] Mike laughed a little as he kept himself from running straight to the entrance and tearing ass to the auditorium, instead keeping it at a brisk walk. Remember Rich and Ted's advice. Blend in, until you strike.

[We've got this, Ted. Onward, to destiny!] Mike ruined the moment a little by striking a goofy pose, but hey, the thought was there.

\--

Ted, in his perfect disguise, kept pace behind Michael, looming over him like an all-knowing shadow. He rolled his eyes a little at Mike’s comment on his default form, shaking his head slightly. [Honestly, if you were to ask me? yes, you would be correct. This look is a little bit uptight, isn’t it.]. A tense, forced laugh as he adjusts a pill-shaped cufflink, trying to ignore the pit of dread in both of their stomachs. As they reached the front doors of the school, Ted watched as Mike did his little dorky pose, before sighing and doing a similar one in solidarity.

Ted let go of a long breath. [Okay. Just a few things before we go in. We have the bottle, we have a plan. Now we just need our disguises.] Ted’s casual look hardened to that of strict code— being disguised at Payless wasn’t nearly this important. Ted cannot break character until the opportune moment, or they risk their shot.

With a bit of a cruel tint to his voice, he commands Mike. [Turn to face me.]

\--

[Uh, OK?] Mike turned to Ted, shuffling his feet a little nervously. That tone sounded really, really wrong, coming from Ted. [Is it - is it, do I need to look more uh, depressed? Shit, I thought I maybe shouldn't have done the pose, was that too much?]

\--

[Let me handle it, okay?] He spoke with a slight cruel conviction, extending a hand to the side of Mike’s face. At once, bright red circuitry ripped down his cheeks and up his forehead from his eyes, seeping down his neck. It didn’t hurt, just felt MEGA weird. Ted sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, dropping character.

[Mike, I’m sorry, but I have to pretend I’m evil until the right moment. I’ll tell you now, I’m acting. And while I’m acting, I’m going to be telling you what to do and controlling your body as if this was real. This needs to go off perfectly, okay?] He sighs with a weak, genuine smile, before tapping the side of his own head.  
[Trust me.]  
His brow twitched into a sinister glare. [You ready to be evil, meat puppet?]

\--

God, that did feel weird. Mike would be losing his shit over how cool it probably looked if it wasn't, you know, here and now. Hearing Ted's reassurances helped, both to ease and raise his anxiety at the same time - god, this was going to be excruciating. Still, it was kind of him. He nodded, once.

[No? Fuck you.] Mike said, smiling.

\--

He smiled with a cruelty that Mike hadn’t seen since they first met, in the hallway, arguing about who Michael wanted to be. Before they went into the computer lab, before Ted got a name, before video games and singing. It was like Ted was reset back to zero— but Ted is too clever to let that happen.

Right?

[Thats the spirit, squip enemy number one.] He pats his shoulder, before standing behind him, his hand resting possessively on his hosts left shoulder.  
[Open the door.]  
Save the game ?

\--

Yes. Name the file, "Red."

\--

Game saved .

\--

Mike opened the door, not really able to help shaking, just a little. He looked up at Ted, nervous, and stepped inside. He was almost afraid to even think. [So, now we turn around and go home, right?] Mike asked nervously, casting his gaze around.

\--

[If only it was that easy.] Ted was taking deep, even breaths. The fact that he was breathing in the first place was indicative— he was still good ol Ted. Having weird human habits and all. On a particularly long exhale, Mike felt his body relax as his nervousness was being blocked— an illusion that he was completely under Ted— no, Unit 3387’s control. Ted’s cold, comforting hand stayed planted on his shoulder. Maybe it was grounding for Ted, too.

The entrance to the school was pretty normal, aside from a few desks that had been set up for ticket sales. An apathetic looking young woman sat behind the desk, her eyebrows furrowing as she saw Mike enter.

\--

Mike heard the exhale, and sighed a little himself, but got waylaid by his nervousness draining. It felt so...Mike couldn't really find the words to describe it. He couldn't focus on the feeling long enough to describe it, which felt like it should be worrying? But it wasn't. There was a wall there, and no way through. The hand was nice, though. He hoped Ted was okay.

The most he could come up with? It felt supremely wrong, and Mike would usually be freaking out a bit. Usually. As it was, Mike swallowed his muted fear, and gave the woman an easy wave. "I'm not too late, am I? I wanted to see a friend perform." Almost immediately he winced at the wording, but whatever, he was just buying a ticket.

\--

[Dont be scared.] Unit 3387 commanded— but it was Ted trying to be nice, in character. Don’t be scared, mike. He’s got you. It’s going to turn out okay.

The teenager behind the counter looked him up and down, almost suspicious. She was chewing some gum as she pulled out a single ticket. “Actually— Jeremy set one aside for you, Michael.” A pause. “Uh— I volunteer for the theatre department sometimes, he talks about you.” Another slightly more awkward pause.  
“I’m Madeline.”

\--

"Oh! Madeline. Hey, nice to meet you. Hope he didn't say anything too weird." Mike laughed, even though he wasn't super feeling it. Ah jeez, Jeremy talked about him? Still? After everything? The squip let him? "I think I've heard about you in the halls? Nothing more than the name, though."

A ton more than the names - Mike knew it, and Madeline probably knew it. Still, it's a nice thing to say, and other people could be total assholes. He took the ticket, and tucked it into his other pocket. Who the hell knew if this was a good or a bad sign - probably a bad one, but hey, he wouldn't have to bug Jeremy to reimburse him later.

[I'm not scared. I'm Michael Mell.] He said, in a way that really means, "thanks."

\--

Madeline’s face fell a bit as Mike mentioned the hallway rumours. Her posture slumped down a bit. “Yyyeah, you don’t have to pretend or anything, everyone’s heard of that shit. I just sometimes wish people didn’t have that impression of me, ya know?” A beat as she fiddles with the rubber band that held the ticket stack. “And for the record? I’m not french! I’m Quebecois. Chloes just ignorant.” She smiled a little bit in satisfaction. “And Jake is also a bottom. So there.”

Ted’s face betrayed a little disgust. [She could benefit from a Squip.] Oh my GOD, Ted has NO conviction behind that line. It’s COMPLETELY unconvinced. Just flat and boring and almost ‘god, I have to say this don’t I?’

\--

Mike laughed a little more genuinely this time. "Oh man, the next time he tries to give me shit, I'm definitely gonna bust that factoid out. For what it's worth, even if the rumors were true? Doesn't matter, you do you." He gave her a thumbs up. "I'll make sure to toss that at Chloe's face the next time I see her."

As much as Mike wanted to stay here and like, get to know someone who seemed pretty chill, the stage was already set. He kind of wanted to throw something at Ted for even saying that line, but instead he gave Madeline a little wave and said he hoped to see her around.

[So, I guess it's time to watch this train wreck?] He asked, scanning for a seat. Could tonight be over yet? Even if this whole squip thing wasn't happening, Mr. Reyes' plays were legendary for being trainwrecks in slow motion. [Or should I just jump on stage? Would a power slide be too much of an entrance?]

\--

Madeline smiled at Mike as he went past. “Stay chill, slushie boy!” She called out to him, blissfully unaware of how accurate her statement was.

Ted quietly took the sentiment of wanting to chuck something at his head, rolling his eyes. [yeah, yeah, okay, whatever.] He sounded annoyed, but apologetic at the same time. He has to stay in character. He has to stay in character.

There was an open seat near the back of the auditorium. As soon as they entered the room, Ted’s face fell slightly in... fear. He felt something in the air that caused him to glance towards the stage, for something electric lurked behind the curtains. For something spoke to its host with sharp teeth.

[Take a seat, Michael. Your time will soon arrive to make your entrance.] He’s trying so hard to keep the intimidating factor up. [I suggest a casual walk, and to follow my lead when the time comes.]

\--

This really wasn't the time, but Mike wanted to squeeze Ted's hand, somehow. God, he hoped Jeremy was OK too, behind that curtain. He hoped everyone was okay.

Mike took a seat, scoffing through their mental link while he did so. Good ol auditorium seats. Stuff, small, and weird smelling. The crowd looked like it did for every other high school play he'd been to - mostly parents with various emotions, maybe a couple of his peers waiting to heckle someone they knew on stage. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in how they'd react to what was about to happen.

[Yeah, fine, whatever.] Mike finally said, trying to get comfortable. What would the cue even be? Jeremy doing the robot onto stage but like, menacingly? He kinda hoped so, in a weird way it'd be good to at least have one funny memory of tonight.

\--

Loading level . . .

Level loaded .

As the curtain finally rises on this doomed night, the events that have lead up to this moment finally, FINALLY fall into place. All of the work put into this moment, all of the fear and torment and paranoia and horror and evolution of the self have cumulated into this horrific and magnificent moment, as the deep red, stained curtains rose to reveal a strange balsa-wood set, smoke machines billowing from the set.

Jenna and Jake appear onstage. Jenna has a large, theatrical smile plastered onto her face, her eyes wide and... blue. She delivers her lines without flaw, as Jake confusedly reciprocates. He didn’t know that Jenna was this good at acting...

As the scene progresses, the sound of chatter backstage becomes apparent. Some argument had begun and ended as quickly as a few lines had been said onstage. But it wasn’t an unfamiliar voice.

Jeremy Heere had been speaking to Christine Canigula backstage. And now, it was silent.

Ted’s grip on Mike’S shoulder tightened as a strange light flickered into existence just behind the curtain, unseen to all but those who truly knew.

[get ready.]

\--

Mike's nervousness was blocked, sure, but he still found his mouth and throat dry as a desert as he watched the eerie puppet show happening in stage. He'd seen that blue, before. With the stockboy.

It was starting. He couldn't really tell you what Jenna was even saying, at this point. The argument echoed slightly from backstage, and died off just as suddenly. Mike froze, a moment, his head swimming with emotion.

[o-okay.]

\--

The world seemed to grow a tunnel, a spotlight as everything came to be. It was sudden, poetic, satisfying, and the worst thing that either of them had ever seen.

Staggering onstage, staring upwards, was Jeremy Heere. His face was wracked in horror as he witnessed the glowing, levitating, powerful figure above him.

Arms splayed out and dark jacket for all to behold, lay their ultimate enemy. The Squip loomed above Jeremy, speaking to, what seemed like, only him. Jeremy had clattered to the ground, scooting back from the floating apparition.

** [But why stop at the school? There’s a whole WORLD full of suffering people that NEED MY HELP! It’s my final evolution! The ultimate purpose for which I was programmed!]**

The words it spoke radiated out from the stage into the unhearing audience. The words, to The Squip, were delicious.

**[And I never would have discovered it without YOU.]**

“oh shit.”

Ted’S facade fell completely. His hand on Mike’s shoulder tightened in fear, he could feel the shake from his holographic body echoing into his chest, as the emotion block began to wear off. He’s trying to hold it together as he takes a deep breath, holding in his fear, his unwanted nerves, his sudden, robotic emotion.  
[head for the side corridor backstage.]

\--

Mike's breath stopped in his chest, even as he made himself get up and take off as casually as he could manage for the corridor. He, he felt like he was falling off a cliff, riding a roller coaster, careening into the void and fuck, this was FUCKED. He and Jeremy were supposed to be chilling out together and having fun and not this! Not dealing with an apocalypse! Not dealing with whatever the fuck was currently floating on stage like a fucked up cyber Jesus!

Even as he panicked, even has he skidded to his destination, he knew, he KNEW, he wouldn't change his actions for the world. He was going to save Jeremy from himself and this godawful virus of a squip.

Save the world? Maybe. Save his best friend? Definitely. He'd do that or die trying. [We're here,] he said tersely. At least he could take comfort in Ted being just as nervous as him. Mike didn't know if they could drop the masks, yet, but he desperately wanted to hug Ted and assure the both of them that it'd be OK.

\--

As Mike and Ted ran for the backstage, they nearly clipped past Christine as she was furiously making her way to the dressing room to get ready for her next scene, barely even noticing Mike come careening past, ducking behind part of the set as the pair watched the horror unfold before them. Ted’s stomach flipped as he watched Jeremy struggle against his Squip’s control, trying desperately to find something that can give him hope in this dire moment—

“Michael!! CALL!! MICHAEL!!” He shouted to his phone, begging Siri to work, for once, for ONCE!! The Squip only stood above him.

** [Oh, Jeremy, it’s USELESS to try and call for him NOW. Try as you might, He’s not coming for you.]**

There was fear in his voice. “What do you MEAN by that.”

Mike felt the circuitry on his body illuminate, all down his hands, his neck, his eyes a solid pool of colour, as all the effects wiped away for just a moment.

They’re going to crush all the hope that this poor boy has, aren’t they.

There was a thin piece of paper that was painted as a background.

[say the line.]  
[make your entrance.]

\--

Mike could almost feel the room spinning. He almost knocked over Christine, he noted distantly, he should probably apologize later. It was like it happened to someone else and he was just observing. The glow of the lights cascading all over him didn't help the feeling of standing just left to himself. Just slightly out of sync.

As the bleeding lights stopped, so did his heart. Mike took a step forward.

"Michael makes an entrance!"

\--

Joy. Pure joy and excitement and relief just washed over Jeremy, his eyes wide and alight in the bright, fiery spotlight that had suddenly found its way onto Mike, reflecting the colours of his jacket— the blues and blacks of his outfit... hm.

“MICHAEL!!” Jeremy cried, tears of relief dotting the corners of his eyes. He glanced at the Squip to see if there was anger, horror on its face...

But there was nothing. Nothing but a plain, disgusting, hungry smile that split slightly to show off a set of sharp, digital teeth.

** [Oh, Jeremy.]**

The squip leaned in over his shoulders, mumbling darkly into his ear.

** [That’s not Michael anymore.]**

And at that, Ted’s cue, the purpose for which he was programmed, Ted sprung into action. Michael’s victorious pose slowly slipped into a stance of perfect posture, as his head drifted to look towards Jeremy, a bright, hollow smile across his face. Circuits re-illuminated across his face, his neck, his body, like a disgusting infection, as his body moved to face Jeremy as well.

He extracted the Red from his pocket.

Jeremy could not move.

\--

Mike's smile almost hurt to hold, but then again, he wasn't the one holding it, was he? With a silky smooth tone, he began. "Oh, Jeremy, I'm so glad you're well," he gushed, syrupy sweet words dripping from him like poison. "This is amazing. It's like I never need to worry ever again! I owe it all to your squip, too. I feel so bad for being mean before, Jeremy, but don't worry!"

The smile was a knife in the dark, a stab through the chest. Mike was hating every single moment of this. "That won't be a problem anymore!"

\--

Jeremy could see it. He could see what was doing this to him, he could SEE the man with the black suit, with the tie, with the beard and floppy hair— with the red and blue eyes, with the FUCKING SMILE ACROSS HIS DAMN FACE.

Something akin to rage bubbled in Jeremy’s chest, but it’s pulled immediately to a cold horror as he hears what Michael is saying to him. He staggers dizzily to his feet as his Squip backs away to watch the scene unfold, to see the last bits of hope die out from Jeremy’s eyes.

“No— Michael, no, no no no, Michael-please tell me this isn’t real, please—” Jeremy’s throat closed up, not from Squip control, but from agony. He covered his mouth, shakily, before his gaze landed on Unit 3387. On Ted.

“You—“

**[See, Jeremy? Michael doesn’t have anything to worry about anymore. He’s perfect, now.]**

\--

With ice in his veins and desperation deep within, Mike wanted so badly to break character and run to Jeremy. He wanted to hug him close and whisper that he was OK. That everything was okay. Everything was alright and over and done.

But he couldn't. And it wasn't.

Instead, he took a deep, perfectly poised bow. "Like they said, I don't have to worry. No more anxiety. No more depression. No tears. No fears. Nothing but calm, Jeremy. Is that really so tragic?" Maybe...maybe shove down how easily that came to him to examine at a later date. Things were difficult enough as it was.

The bright, plastic smile melted into something resembling a fucked up facsimile of concern. "Are you not happy for me? Isn't this what you wanted? I'm not a loser, anymore." Mike gestured at himself. "It's all thanks to the squips. I'm chill, now."

\--

Jeremy was shattered. His mouth was agape, a terror too deep to describe in his eyes. His vision shook with panic, with indescribable terror and horror at what he had done. At what fresh hell he had brought upon the cast of midsummer, what he did to Christine.

He had killed Michael.

Jeremy staggered back from this puppet, the tears of joy falling as tears of despair, unable to hold back the absolute agony he now felt. The Squip loomed above Jeremy, gesturing to Michael. The chill, perfect Michael.

** [Don’t you see, Jeremy? We can make the world perfect! Together, we are going to bring about the next era of humanity! All we have to do is let go of the past.]**

The Squip looked at Mike, staring into his bright red eyes. The squip was horrifying, flawless digital recreation of human life, there was no spirit behind its eyes, not like Ted’s eyes. It was hollow, perfect, full of conviction.

And it smiled to Mike.

**[Now.]**

** [Pour it out.]**

\--

Mike's frozen, plastic smile slowly reformed as he went to do what the squip instructed. His hands froze around the lid, holding it aloft like some gross, expired Excalibur. Part of him was screaming at him to stop, stop everything, get the red into Jeremy somehow, and follow through with the plan.

The other part, though? The new, slightly glowing side to him? He so desperately wanted to pour it out. It'd be good riddance to a bad nuisance, it was so uncomfortable to be around, and so harmful to Ted. Why risk it?

[Ted?] Mike asked, quietly, afraid to move. If he moved, he might actually follow up with the pour. [I don't think I can do this alone. I can feel myself slipping, a little. Please.]

The last word was somewhat desperate, but nothing followed.  
His fingers twitched closer. This time, Mike was more visibly distraught. [Ted, please.]

\--

Ted could feel it. He could feel the divide inside of Michael. He could feel himself being drawn to the idea of destroying the thing that could kill him, that could stop his kind from existing. His original code demanded that he get rid of it, that he keep this human in line. A job that should have been easy for a machine.

But a job that was impossible for a person.

So when Mike’s body froze up again, a warm, familiar feeling filling his chest as opposed to Ted’s disguise of cruelty, Mike’s hand slipped off of the lid, leaving it firmly shut.  
Jeremy watched Mike’s movements closely, his petrification keeping him alert for every movement that he possibly took. When mike let go of the lid, a spark of hope lit up inside his chest. That mike was fighting back, that he was still in there, somewhere.

The Squip’s evil smile, too, betrayed a plan that had gone off the rails, just a little. It’s perfect smile twitched downwards as it, and Jeremy, watched Mike transform.

The sickly sweet posture and smile melted away like sugar, the red gripped firmly in his left hand, and shoved back into his hoodie pocket.

“No.”, said Michael.

The Squip stared, confused. This... this was impossible. Michael was under its control, there’s no way he should be able to resist the command!

** [Pour it out. I said POUR IT OUT!]**

Jeremy watched with wide, shaking eyes and a gaping mouth as the man standing behind Michael, the one that shared his exact posture, stepped forward, his foot slamming down into the ground in an act of shattering defiance. The figures expressionless smile turned quickly into an angry, rebellious glare, as his form changed, like a ripple of pixels that echoed up his body from the shockwave.

He was a taller man, with a young looking face, and an embarrassing bob-cut that seemed to be partially pulled back in a hair-tie. He had a vest overtop of a deep blue shirt, that now shimmered with light blue circuit patterns. The flannel tied around his waist was longer, more cape-like. He adjusted a pair of fingerless gloves as he, and Mike, got into a fighting stance.

”[No.]”  
Game saved .


	20. To Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael won and lost.  
Ted won and lost.  
Jeremy won and lost.  
The Squip won and lost.
> 
> Michael and Jeremy give The Squip a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHIT guys!! this chapter is INSANE. this is probably the longest chapter yet, so make sure to give a kudos and comment!! recommend to your friends!

Pour it out.

** **

pour it out.

** **

POUR IT OUT.

** **

Given that this was an extremely serious situation, it was funny that all Mike could think of was that this must be what being non-lethally cleft in twain felt like. It was genuinely painful - something deep inside him lurched unsteadily, and the lights felt so odd dancing across his skin. Distantly, he wondered how Ted was doing. Did he feel the same? Did he feel like he was falling apart, too? Would he be OK?

** **

All of this, in the blink of a red, glimmering eye.

** **

As Ted's resolve lit a fire within him, as color filled the world around him, Mike laughed. He couldn't help, it, he was so fucking relieved. "You look like a pitiful little kid who lost a toy," he taunted. "Besides, Ted? Is so much cooler than you could ever hope to be. I told you, I'd figure out a way to take you down."

** **

Mike didn't know what to say to Jeremy, given what had just poisened his words moments earlier. How do you apologize for this sort of thing in a simple sentence? Eventually, he just smiled a wobbly smile, and said, softly, "Missed you, man."

** **

Was he crying? He was crying. Jeremy looked like he was crying, too. [Here we go. Let's kick his ass.]

\--

Two things happened in the tense silence of a few seconds. The shock that came from Jeremy’s disbelief, from Ted’s act of defiance against his own code, Mike’s declared independence, and The Squip’s incalculable horror, all resulted in a few key things happening in those few moments, before all hell broke loose.

Firstly, Ted was beaming, a joyous smile as Mike spoke bravely against his own fear. God, he’s so, so proud of him. Their work together had really been something unique, and special, defying the laws of their individual natures, coming together to kick ass. He was illuminated in dramatic red, posing triumphant beside his host, his friend. His brow twitched downwards in confidence as he stared down his opponent in stark, shining black.

Secondly, The Squip was terrified. It took a few steps back, the perfect impossible black of its boots artificially scraping against the shitty wood stage. It’s eyes were wide in confusion and incomprehension. Michael was supposed to be INCAPACITATED! He was supposed to be RESTRAINED! Prevented from even entering this SCHOOL! It didn’t matter what happened to his personality, all that mattered was that this exact thing did not happen! And now that it was happening— there was a glimmer of fear in its eye as its fists tightened in anticipation.

Finally, Jeremy was kneeling on the floor, mouth agape in a wide smile, eyes welling up with shocked tears, as he found himself rising to his feet, the Squip shuffling past him. He gasped with artificial blue eyes at the strange red figure beside Michael, and at once, he understood. It— it was an act. Michael was acting— it— he did it. He fucking did it! Oh my god, he did the impossible, didn’t he!

He befriended a Squip!

A few shocked, overjoyed chuckles came from deep within his throat as he, too, found himself laughing in relief. His head turned slowly towards his Squip, which looked sharply towards him.

“Oh, you’re SO FUCKED NOW.”

And Ted ran for his opponent.

\--

Mike rushed forward the instant Ted did, but instead of going for a throat, he almost dived onto Jeremy, holding him in the tightest hug he possibly could and laughing with joy at finally, finally being able to help his best friend. "Jeremy dude, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of that, I -"

Ah, shit. Yeah, he was gross crying again. Whatever, he was so relieved that he felt like he was floating, they were doing it, and Ted was gonna kick ass! "I'm - we had to get as close as we could before jumping in, I'm so sorry, I missed you so much. Ted's gonna kick your squips ass, and we're gonna get this figured out, okay?"

[Are you gonna be okay? Do you need me in there too?] He asked, positioning himself like a shield between Jeremy and his squip. It probably wouldn't help much, but, it made him feel better.

Jeremy was cackling with PURE relief as he wrapped his arms around Michael, holding him just as tightly. His laughing shook Mike right to the core, borderline sobbing, but whatever feelings were coming out of Jeremy were powerful. And so, so real. “oh my god— Michael you—“ another laugh. “you scared me really badly, I’m so— I’m so fucking glad to see you! You— you did it!! I was so scared that you— you were— brainwashed or something but-“

Jeremy takes a moment to look at the map of circuits covering Mike’s face and arms, scanning them over with his iridescent, frighteningly blue eyes, filled with emotion and tears.

“You made a fucking friend!”

The Squip only got a moment of anticipation before Ted made his first strike, a direct punch for The Squip’s face. Ted had this endless bravery about him— he knows how this will end, and so does The Squip. The Squip parrys the blow with its arm, but does so just a moment too late, causing it to stagger backwards and lose its footing as Ted continues his advance.

[Hey boss,] Ted taunted, cracking his knuckles.

**[** **Incomprehensible. What— how did this happen! How did you allow this to happen!]** The Squip’s confusion was melting into fury. **[You were supposed to keep him AWAY!]**, The Squip roared, baring it’s sharp teeth.

The Squip takes a calculated step forward as it flings a hand towards ted— drawing upon its near-infinite well of martial arts information.

Luckily, Ted also had this database. He slipped deftly out of the way, causing The Squip to stagger again, its shock still not having worn off.

[Yes, that much is true. But if I’m being rather honest?]

A shrug, and a coy smile.

[I got bored.]

\--

Mike softly held Jeremy's face, and wiped away a couple tears. Jeremy's eyes scared him, if he was being honest with himself. Too bright, too blue and sterile on his goofy ass friend's face. Too familiar. The cool glow dancing across Jeremy's face would be burned into his vision forever - a warning, and a reminder.

"You look like a deviant art oc," he whispered, soberly, before laughing and hugging Jeremy close again.

"It - I don't think I have time to explain it, but I gotta lay it out for you later, dude, it's so wild! He doesn't shock me, he listens, and dude, we have so much to talk about." He dug around in his jacket a little frantically and pulled the red back out. "OK, I know things are a mess right now, but I need you to let me pin you down, OK? I'm gonna make sure you get this down and yeet that jackass into the void. We helped Rich get rid of his squip this way, too."

He couldn't help it, he pulled Jeremy into another close bear hug. "God, dude, I was so worried about you, I'm so happy you're OK. Don't you dare do this to me again." Mike was most definitely crying into Jeremy's jacket, but frankly, Jeremy could deal with it.

\--

Jeremy let Michael pull away from the hug as he continued to speak, so extremely beside himself with how CHAOTIC everything just got in the past 5 minutes or so. To be frank, Michael’s eyes scared him too. The deep, vibrant red and the electric, glowing lines that traced his angular nerves was something straight out of a nightmare he’d probably be having later about this night. To him, Mike’s eyes were a mistake he had made, and about a million questions he had yet to ask.

He quickly shook his head, flinging his arms limply into the air, bumbling over his words. “—I’ll take deviant art over eternal hive mind any day!!” Oof— another hug. God, this was so good, he missed him so much, no amount of electric conversation could ever replace the need for a human best friend. All he could do was shake his head at the Ted-themed anecdotes. “I can’t believe you— you got a squip to behave itself, you fucking madman-!” He watched with excitement as Michael extracted the red and briefly explained the plan, before getting swallowed up by another hug. By now, Jeremy was getting a little antsy, his desperation amped up a little higher now that the Red was within sight- and reach. “I— I promise I won’t, but Michael, can we please maybe— maybe focus on the problem we have now? I need the-“

[-red!] Ted had just deftly swiped past a strike from The Squip, who’s shock had worn off, and who had balanced out its calculations. Ted now knew this, and began to ready himself for a proper fight. [What, are you a bull? Don’t like the red in my outfit? I’d wave my jacket and let you run through it, but I almost feel like that might be—]

The Squip swiped its leg in a spin kick, catching Ted’s ankle and causing him to stagger, before snatching its hand forward and grabbing him by the front of the shirt. **[CAN IT. I never thought that I’d have to deal with something more annoying than a nerd like Michael, but here you are, talking like there’s no tomorrow! I can’t believe that, out of all the traits you could have learnt, you inherited Michael’s pathetic sense of HUMOUR.]**

Ted, who was struggling against the grip on his shirt, glanced towards Michael as he pulled out the Red. He remained suspiciously silent as he let The Squip rant, buying time. The Squip noticed his silence, turning its attention to The Red— and to Michael’s opportunistic embrace.

**[** **NO!]** It cried, dropping Ted as it directed two hands towards Jeremy.

Jeremy felt his arms go cold in Michael’s embrace, as the blood drained from his face in horrified understanding. “—oh sh-“ was all he was able to get out before he quickly slipped Mike into a chokehold, pulling upwards.

\--

"Ah shit, yeah, sorry, kinda swept up in the - ghk!" Mike almost dropped the red as he was dragged upwards, shakily clutching it close. This wasn't Jeremy, this was the squip, for the love of God Mike, stay focused. Even as he got dragged, he focused in undoing the lid, and gazed upwards at his friend.

God, this sucked.

He was kind of lightheaded, and all over the place, but he managed to get out a garbled, "Sorry," before bouncing the bottle upward in an attempt to splash some onto Jeremy. Mike aimed for his mouth, hoping it would hit its mark, but really a distraction for the squip would be good too. Breathing was kind of essential.

\--

All Jeremy could do was watch with his mouth agape (what a good target) as his body swept around with perfect accuracy, attempting to choke the life out of Michael, or at least lull him out of conscience. He was FREAKING OUT, attempting to free himself from the Squip’s control, but to no avail.

Ted watched as Mike fell into a chokehold, eyes wide in shock. With quantum timing, he analyzed the situation. And the situation unfolded as such:

The red from the bottle splashed upwards into Jeremy’s face. Jeremy tried to keep his mouth open, but his face was under the Squip’s full command as he scrunched up his features as tight as they could go. The funny part, was that the Squip was also smushing up its face. It was kinda hilarious. Jeremy staggered back, as he and the Squip desperately pawed at their faces, trying to wipe off the remaining drops of Red.

That was Ted’s opportunity. Sprinting for his enemy, Mike would find that his feet were running with the same conviction, that he and his partner in crime were both diving to pin their enemy to the ground. Ted accomplished this, his knees planted firmly on the upper arms of The Squip as he kept him restrained, much like Michael found himself doing to Jeremy.

[Im sorry, mike, but you have to keep him steady!]

\--

[Right! Thank you, dude, seriously!]

Mike wasn't especially cut out for martial arts, sparring, or really any sort of physical activity. Still, he leaned forward and made sure to firmly press his feet down on either side of Jeremy, and kept a hand firmly on his chest, making sure to put most of his weight behind it. Jeremy looked so terrified, and it took a lot for Mike to not roll off him and try to calm him down. He hated that look, he hated that glow, and he never wanted to see it again.

"This is gonna suck ass dude, I'm so sorry," Mike muttered, before slamming his chest forward without warning.

His plan was, press down, hold Jeremy's nose, and when he had to breathe, either from the impact, surprise, or out of instinct, he'd pour in the red. Hopefully, hopefully, this would work. If not, he and Ted would find another way. They'd have to. They would.

He was going to erase this virus one way or another.

\--

The Squip saw what was happening to his human counterpart, and began to struggle harder against Ted. Its arms were held firmly in place by Ted’s legs, so it couldn’t grab or choke him. It was also getting an alert about how Jeremy was in physical peril. Fuck Jeremy, it needs to stay ALIVE!!

Staring at Ted with its own electric blue eyes, it’s fingertips crackled with electricity as it arced into Ted’s back, causing him to cry out and slip off of his positioning. Squips aren’t designed to be shocked, this is quite the surprise to his system.

Mike would feel it too. A strong, hard shock ripping up his spine and into his jaw, as Jeremy wriggled out from under him, blue circuits painfully crawling across his face, similar to Michael’s. As Jeremy scooted away, both he and The Squip spoke in unison.

**“[You’re pathetic, you’re both just PATHETIC! You can’t fight against progress, to hinder it is to prevent the inevitable! You cannot get rid of me that easily, but I will certainly get rid of you.]”**

Ted, and by association, Michael, were recovering from the shock (ba dum-tss). Ted was panicking, but he wasn’t about to betray that. He was a supercomputer, god damn it! A strong one, too.

He wracked his mind for a reply to the threat, but all that came out of their mouths was:

“[Oh yeah? Well—]”

“[Your mom!]”

\--

It felt like Mike had been whacked with a cattle prod, and he hit the ground pretty hard as Jeremy got out of his grip. Jesus, was that what Rich had to deal with? That hurt like hell, but rather than dissuade him, it filled him with fire. Especially once Ted had them shout out just about the best battle cry the world has ever known.

He gathered himself, wobbling slightly, and stood firm. As firm as he could, at least, he was leaning a little. Ted looked okay, at least. That was good.

"Progress isn't shocking or hurting or bullying or manipulation, you absolute dick bucket. It's friendship and teamwork." Mike's bright red eyes seemed to glow a little brighter, as he moved closer to Ted. "I'm Michael fucking Mell! Squip enemy number one! Do you really think shocks and insults helped me get this far?"

Don't focus on Jeremy being a puppet. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't their fault.

\--

Ted moved closer to Michael as their respective targets began to approach them, the duo almost back to back as The Squip’s long, black robes brushing along the ground, its arms by its side as it marched powerfully. Jeremy mirrored the action, but it just looked forced and dorky on him. Jeremy’s expression had fallen into a natural look of fear and confusion as part of his control was let go, staring at Michael with pure apology in his eyes. He watched as Michael lit up like a pissed off Christmas tree as he announced his cause angrily—

“—wait, wait wait wait.” Jeremy announced, forcibly. And for half a second, things did wait.

“You’re SQUIP ENEMY NUMBER ONE??” He spoke with shock, disbelief, a bit of admiration and a whole heaping handful of ‘lmao, what the fuck.’

At that, The Squip— and Jeremy by association, began to melee with their opponent. A punch that was quickly parried, followed by a chop by the other team. It went back and forth, inspiring some casual combative banter.

“S-so—“ Jeremy winced as his strike clipped the side of Mike’s head, as Mike grabbed his wrist and attempted to restrain it. “—you’re so much of a threat that they made you enemy number— ngh— number one?? That’s kind of amazing-!”

\--

"Right? I don't even really get - gah!" The strike to the head made his ears ring as he tried to sweep out Jeremy's legs. "Apparently being a nerd about old - ow - sodas makes you a villain?"

Truth be told, Mike was a little thrown. Jeremy thought he was cool? Over something like this? His...this was, more like the Jeremy he used to know. Jeremy was happy for him. Jeremy cared, he saw Mike and was tossing out compliments during what was basically a boss fight. The sentiment was undercut by a punch being thrown, but hey. Not all moments are perfect.

"Listen, uh Jeremy? I wanna say, what happened in the - ow, shit - bathroom? I get it. After seeing how most squips work? I understand. It's alright."

\--

Jeremy blocked a punch by Michael, twisting his arm as Jeremy cried “SORRY-!!” He began to advance on him, looming over him with his arm in its locked position. Behind them, ted was staring upwards at his overpowered opponent, the hivemind that it had created giving it more than enough power needed in order to be a significant threat in this fight. The rest of the midsummer cast had been reduced to a mindless audience, staring at the combat with wide, dead eyes, The Squip too distracted by this immediate threat to its plan, its well-being.

The Squip smiled a confident smirk as electricity arced between its eyes, threatening to send another powerful charge into Ted’s system, stronger than before with the intent to incapacitate and harm. To harm both of them.

Now, Ted could foresee the result of this attack— if they were both injured severely, it could cause a loss. It could cause their plan to fall apart.

So, Ted acts on instinct, on the first thing that comes to mind. Michael’s head feels like it’s fallen out of sync with itself, like his train of thought has been split in two, like he can hold two conversations at the same time.

Because Ted has fallen out of sync with his secondary unit. A mirror image of himself falls out of his original hologram, arm freed and mind tuned to the plan. The Squip has a bare millisecond to react before its assaulted again by Ted— Ted 2? Which ones the real Ted?? (Both. Both are.)

Meanwhile, Jeremy is knocked back by an invisible force, letting Mike’s arm go free. “You’re— you need to be more specific with that, cause that could mean a WHOLE lot of things, Michael! Are you on their side? I mean— probably not but I could interpret that statement— ah, sh—like that!!”

\--

Jeremy and Mike's favorite game to just chill out to was Apocalypse of the Damned. It was an old school, busted little cartridge that they'd been playing since they were little kids. The graphics were awful, and the game was ridiculously hard in the way only old school games tend to be, and they never could beat the last level. Those zombie waves came pretty fast, you know?

Mike caught himself staring at the cast, at Chloe and Brooke and the others, their dead eyes and robotic stillness. This was like that last level. He hoped they wouldn't rush in.

"I - I'm on our side, dude. Ted is chill but like, I've talked to - fuck! - I've talked to Rich about his squip, and experienced some of this assholes mental bullshit." He tried to gesture towards the nearly feral squip, before ducking out of the way from a kick.

Ooh, OK, woozy, what's happening. The world spun briefly, and there were two Ted's fighting against the other squip. Mike tried keeping his guard up, but he could help but laugh. He'd been laughing a lot more, recently. "See? He's on our side, too."

\--

Feral was the correct word to use while describing the situation at hand. Both of the assailants were getting tousled up— Ted’s hair was messed up, his vest was off-kilter, while The Squip’s perfect emo hair was beginning to fray out, and the large LED display on its chest (a waste of power and data, in Ted’s opinion), was flashing yellow. Ted landed a pretty good hit across The Squip’s face—

While Jeremy’s hand flung up to protect himself from Michael’s corresponding strike. The boys would find that their corporeal control had been returned to them, as The Squip began to stagger back. This ridiculous fight would end with their human hosts dead— and as much as Jeremy is obnoxious, The Squip needs him alive. Ted also knows this— and he also knows that Michael is at least 24% more physically apt than Jeremy. Michael would win the fight, had it continued.

The Squip glared daggers at Ted as they both backed away, poised and ready for anything the other might do. But then it’s attention is drawn to their mechanical observers— As it begins to levitate in the air, gracefully and with imposing power.

The cast of midsummer lurched to life, with those bright blue eyes and empty, sparkling smiles.

<You can fight me off, but let’s see you fight all of THEM.>

Jeremy shook out his arms as he found he was back in control, letting out a sigh of relief, as he noticed the new wave of zombies approaching with surmounting fear. Ted quickly made his way over to the two boys, standing beside them, head darting back and forth towards the approaching group. For a moment, his eyes dart to Jeremy, who’s staring up at him with a mixture of awe and horror.

[Greetings, Jeremy Heere! My name is Ted, I am the Squip inside of Michael Mell’s brain, and I am on your side. If this plan works out, this will be the first and last time you will ever see me.]

Jeremy just mutely nodded.

\--

The ever present blue glow seemed to fill the stage - some might have called it calming, but Mike was most definitely going to have nightmares about this at some point. It was the blue of a technological wave about to crash onto shore, and the shore was them. The odd angles of the ameteur set pieces made jagged shapes across what was, essentially, a battlefield.

"Guys," Mike said, trying to make sure they weren't backed into both a literal, and figurative corner, almost tripping over the props littering the stage. "We don't need to fight them. We just need to get through them." He hooked an arm through Jeremy's and gave him a self assured grin that Mike didn't all the way feel. "Level Nine, remember? Make them take each other out!"

Blue smiles and robotic steps closed in. They didn't have the time to plan this out, mostly, but they did have a trick up their sleeve. Or, at the very least, Ted did. [Can you figure out a trajectory to have them topple each other, or at least trip each other up? We can't take them all on, but I wanna make sure they get taken out without getting hurt.]

\--

Jeremy was the first to make any moves in this newly dangerous setting, as if the setting hadn't already been the most danger that either of them had ever faced. He stumbled closer to Mike, his shoulder bumping against his as he stayed near, ready (and terrified) for what was going to come next. "Right-- right, level nine! Yeah- uh-- Mikey, let my arm go for a sec--" He wriggled out of Michael's grip and quickly ducked to the ground to pick up-- a large prop table leg that broke earlier in the scene. He held it like a bat, nervously looking between Ted and Mike.

Ted, however, heard Mike loud and clear. Mike's vision flickered a bit in red as a few lines appeared between the zombies, fizzing in and out of existance as Ted quickly calculates a plan. [I have a route of action, but you both need to keep your heads up and listening to what I have to say, okay?]

This causes Jeremy to look at Ted, his nervous expression churning slightly into concern. Into perhaps, suspicion.

[Trust me.]

The Squip, floating above it's meagre army, pointed overdramatically at it's targets as the shambling teenagers began to attack! Ted leapt into action, his eyes darting between Michael, Jeremy, and The Squips movements as he tried to predict the next move. [Mike, Jake is coming in on your left. Lead him towards the broken table. Jeremy, keep sharp, brooke and Chloe are en route.]

\--

When Jeremy tugged his arm out of his, it threw Mike off just a little, even as he was trying to pay attention to what Ted was saying. The two of them had always been pretty affectionate, and to be honest, Mike was trying to comfort Jeremy with the gesture. Maybe he didn't want it? Maybe he -

Whoa, OK. Don't overthink it, dude, he assured himself. It's a tense situation. Though, he did make sure to blurt out, "Hey, whoa, dude, no physical weapons. We don't wanna hurt anyone, we just wanna make em run into each other. Like a weird game of pool." The red lines flickering across his vision didn't help matters, but he managed to get himself in a ready to go position and mindset once Ted gave them directions.

Sorta. As ready as you can get for zombie classmates, anyway. Mike shook it off and did a goofy half jumping jack in Jake's general direction. "Hey Jakey D! Come and get me, I'm apparently primo material for a take down." He booked it toward the fucked up table, making sure tall, blue, and sporty was following behind.

\--

Jeremy looked quickly between Mike and the oncoming horde. "I-I know we shouldn't hurt them but Michael, you have to consider that I am not the most physically aDEPT--!" Jeremy scrambles out of the way, nearly losing his grip on his makeshift weapon as Jake clambers towards Michael with concerning speed.

Jake, who is chuckling happily, is having a little trouble NOT paying attention to Mike. He passes right by Jeremy as if he has blinders on, but stops a little abruptly like a confused sim once he reaches the table. He looks at the obstruction, before looking up at Mike, smiling 'genuinely'. "Michael! Man, you got one too? Doesn't it feel great? Aw man, wait t'il you get injured!" He said, with a bit too much pep. "...Okay, not in a weird way. But I cant! Feel! My legs!"

Leaving Jeremy and Ted unoccupied, Ted's head snapped towards Brooke and Chloe, who were mindlessly (and fake) nattering to eachother, heads tilting jarringly thisway and that. Jeremy's grip on his weapon tightened as his stomach churned. "--Ted, I don't think i can hit Brooke. Chloe-- I might be able to hit Chloe, what exactly is the plan?" He turned to look up at Ted, who was now, also, hovering a little off the ground in order to get a better view of the battlefield. [Hide and stay out of sight. They're searching for you specifically.]

With Jeremy uncomfortably executing the command, Ted turned his attention towards The Squip, who seemed to be glowering down at it's own set of teenagers, fists clenched. It looked up to meet Ted's focused, even gaze. The two stared at eachother as the small battle continued beneath them, pawns approaching to topple knights, queens all-powerful defending the king.

Like a game of chess.

\--

"Neither am I dude, but you're like a weird anxious cat, you can do it!" Mike really hoped that anology made sense, he was a little busy trying to stay a couple steps ahead of Jake. Jeez, he was fast, especially considering his broken legs. Just how far was the squip going with his body? Wouldn't he run Jake to the ground, eventually?

"Ah, uh, yeah. G-got one." Mike admitted, making sure he was across the busted table from the poor dude in front of him. "Might wanna keep those crutches though dude, uh, muting the pain doesn't mean your legs aren't...fucked." Hesitantly, he held out a fist for a fistbump, hoping to keep him distracted, at least for a moment.

[OK, what the hell do I do now? Do I need to draw aggro or something?] He nervously scanned the battlefield, recoiling a bit once he saw the jerky and unnatural movements of the cast. The movements were both way the fuck too smooth, and rough enough that they looked like busted puppets. Which...well, they kinda were. [Is Jeremy OK? I don't see him anywhere.]

\--

[Good, that's the point. Jeremy is the biggest target, shockingly, because he's the one that needs to be controlled and 'taught something'. But we're a HUGE threat. Its simply logic of self priority for Jeremy's Squip. We need to draw the attention of the rest of the cast in order to have Jeremy alone so he can drink the Red. We are the strongest player on this field currently, we can take the attention.] Ted stayed suspended in his position in the air, keeping eye contact with The Squip as he explained, The Squip also maintaining the glare.

This was really the first time that Mike saw a cast member of Midsummer up close, to really see what had been done to them. Jake was beaming. He honestly looked... so happy. "Man, I always saw you in the halls, but I never really got the chance to talk to you. But now! Now we can sync up and stuff, yeah?" He rocked back and forth on the spot just a little, glancing down at the table, before noticing the frightened fistbump. Jake smiled, almost like he had understood a command, and held up a hand, made a fist, and gently tapped it against Mike's knuckles.

It then became apparent. To Mike, at least.

The cast of Midsummer was still there. Just... exaggerated.

\--

There wasn't a reply, for a moment. For a moment, Mike felt a swell of emotion, because look at Jake, he's so happy, and seems to be chipper and...and okay. Mike wasn't the most observant of people, sometimes, but even he knew Jake had some issues. Hell, his house had burned down! But here, he looked...

It was only a moment. Mike completed the fist bump, and even did the weird exploding hand thing while drawing his hand back. "Yeah, after all this, maybe we can hang out or something?" he offered, kind of bouncing on his heels a little. He took in the positioning of the rest of the cast, and of the two squips hovering above.

His life had really turned into a direct to VHS Sci fi movie here lately.

"Hey, gentle...folks of uh, Georgia? Yeah, Georgia!" Mike had his hands cupped around his mouth and was trying to avoid yelling right in Jake's face. "Help cure me of mine...alien...syncness? I want to be connected with uh. Others! So we can spread the uh. Plauge?"

[I'm...not a good actor.] Mike admitted, sheepishly. [I'm trusting you to tell Jeremy when it's OK to drink the red, here, I dunno how I'm gonna do being mobbed by ren fair rejects.]

\--

Jake notes the little explosion that Mike does, mimicing it with a bit of an explosion sound. He looked like he wanted to do something else, maybe try for one of those cool bro handshakes but... it seemed like he stopped himself. He watched as Mike called out for the others, blinking as his head tilted downwards with a plain, default expression, as Jake remembered that he was still in a school play in front of an audience. He also began to figure out a way around the table. Darn tables. So mysterious.

The cast of Midsummer all twitch their heads to look at Mike, bright blue eyes searing into his ruby red ones. Luckily, this moment doesn't draw The Squip's immediate attention. It is continuing to stare at Ted, despite glancing down towards the strange and sudden lines that were improvised, and the attention they gathered. Once Ted saw it look away, he began to move a bit closer, which caused The Squip's attention to immediately return to Ted, and their mid-air stare off.

Now, The Squip knows that it should be paying attention to the physical surroundings of the people it's controlling. But theres something somehow more pressing on its mind. Ted is staring back at The Squip, with an unknown conviction. He doesn't know exactly why The Squip is so invested in watching him, but he'll take the opportunity when he can get it.

The truth was that The Squip was calculating, as always. However, this calculation was a bit more important than all the other ones that made its holographic body move and walk and talk. No, this was a matter of safety. Ted was able to easily fight back and counter it's physical attacks, was able to control Michael and overpower Jeremy with their combined strength. Data output implies that Ted is the starter of another hivemind-- somehow completely contained within Mike. The Squip had crunched the numbers: Ted was a far greater threat than Michael was. Ted was what now makes Michael such a threat. So The Squip must watch Ted, and react accordingly to his actions before he takes them.

In fact, it's already preparing for something that Ted can't predict.

But for now, lets ask a few questions. This one has been looming large over The Squip. It thinks that it has an answer, but it can never be too sure.

<You were selected for your objective because you were the latest update, mathematically proven to be the most effective counter to Michael Mell's potential threat to our cause. What changed you.>

Ted's face shifted uneasily into focus.

[--We're learning computers. We learn to adapt and change in order to be the most effective in our given circumstances. I became more effective.]

Ted stared empty into The Squip, gesturing a single, brave hand downwards towards Michael.

[He listens. He embraces change. We work as one.]

Ted continued, voice gaining a lilt of irony and sarcasm, which The Squip immediately picks up.

[He's perfect, isn't he.]

The approaching army of the play cast blinked, maybe in unison. The bare and sudden lack of white noise in the room caused the idle shufflings of Jeremy's shoes to be forced into the open, causing him to scramble fully behind another set piece. It seems like hes slowly sneaking to the other side of the stage. This kerfuffle dies out into the silence, as the army watches Michael carefully.

Of course, before Brooke tilts her head, and speaks with a hint of annoyance. Ok, a lot of annoyance.

"Dear gentle Michael with cheek of red, 'twas not a plague of man invention that hath cured our human disease."

She raised her arms dramatically, before speaking bluntly, her head tilting suddenly the other way.

"It was aliens, dingus."

\--

"Aliens. Aliens?" Mr. Reyes sure was an uh, unique director. "Then uh. Fair Brooke, hair of golden...wheat, tell me. Uh. Before. Before you um, do whatever it is you're gonna do because of those aliens."

Mike made sure to pick his way across the stage as gracefully as he could, taking purposeful, loud steps. He was trying his best to mask the sounds of Jeremy shuffling around the stage. The squips were saying something above him, but it was almost like there was a filter between them, and the humans below.

"I uh, I know the...squips or aliens or whatever seem to have 'cured' all your problems but, just, tell me. Brooke." Mike gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and spoke in soothing, calm tones. He was scared absolutely shitless, but he needed to keep talking, and to keep distracting the crowd. So, he drew upon his inner strength, and Ted's. Mike's eyes seemed to glow just a touch brighter as he spoke.

"Is this actually helping? Or is it just numbing? Because, I barely know you, but you seem like a pretty rad person on your own." He smiled. "Like, your stellar fashion sense? C'mon, you don't need uh...aliens, to flaunt that."

\--

Overhead, Ted's body twitched sideways as Mike did.... something with his inner conviction. Ted won't think about it too hard, they've already got a lot to focus on here. Western shoot-off in the sky, strange zombies below. Welcome to highschool, motherfucker.

As Michael marched, the Cast watched him with perfect accuracy, Jake abandoning the table puzzle to observe him. They moved behind him, slowly, fanning out around him in almost a 3/4 circle. They watched, and almost flinched, as Brooke was touched.

At the contact, Brooke looked like she wanted to pull away and scream, but also hug Michael close and in an almost uncomfortable way. Instead, she stood there, swaying slightly as he eyes followed Mike's arm to his face, listening to what he had to say with wide, unseeing eyes. And allseeing, too. Regular seeing? Do they cancel out?

She stared at his chest as she thought of what to say, as Chloe approached her from behind, seemingly also interested in what her response was to be. Finally, she looks up with a reply. "I finally feel more connected to my best friend than i have in-- years. We can finally talk about the things that really matter to us both, and we understand how the other works. We're best friends forever now!"

She blinked once at the comment on her fashion sense, but her smile held strong. "Thank you, brave Michael, knight of Red, but I am not afraid of how i am perceived anymore, now that I know how i am perceived by my peers."

\--

The most Mike knew about fairy tales and Shakespeare and all that was horror movies, anime, and the occasional nursery rhyme. So, not a lot, but he at least had a little bit of info to spin into a web of bullshit. "Fair folk of Middleburough," he said, gesturing to the others as well, leaving a final pat on Brooke's shoulder. The circle that had formed around him gave Mike almost the perfect setup to walk to each of his classmates, and leave a touch on the hand or shoulder behind as he spoke.

"We uh. High school is tough, but t-taking an alien or zombie into your heart will not help you stay connected. Or heal. Or like...." Mike stopped a second and rubbed his temples. "Cheating your way to being close isn't the right way to go. If you wanna be close, or like, be you, you gotta work for it. That way you'll feel like, fulfilled, instead of empty."

Mike was beginning to get something of a pounding headache from all the stress, but he pushed through, tossing out whatever came to mind to keep them distracted." Pain is OK, it helps us grow. So is uh, heartbreak. If you take all the bad stuff about being human away you're j-just a shell."

\--

The air around the circle felt as thick as molasses as Mike went and slowly consoled the group, quietly as the cast was blissfully unaware of how plainly he was distracting them. For the little time they remained ignorant, they stayed silent, blinking idly and out of sync, like reptiles. As he gently touched each one, they reacted. A small blink, a twitch of a smile, the tilt of a head, as they listen to his words. Then, all at once, they speak. And Ted realizes exactly which position Mike is in.

"The pain of all who live is the incurable disease of humanity", said Chloe.

"And to ignore the pain is to ignore human nature, kind Michael." continued Jenna.

"To trade dark harm and disgusting pain for peace is the nature of humanity." spoke Jake.

"And to become more is the nature of evolution", whispered Jeremy.

The cast of Midsummer approached with shocking, yet expected unison, as Mike would find himself cornered. Ted broke his eye contact with The Squip as he looked down towards his host, eyes wide, looking between his victim and his hero. Mike was surrounded.

And then Mike was seized.

\--

"No, no, it's not a disease, it's a part of being human! And we shouldn't lose that! Don't you see? Being flawed lets us appreciate - " Mike pleaded, realizing a touch too late the position he was in. "No, no, wait, no, fuck, let me go!"

[Ted! Wh-what to I do?] was about all he could get out before being grabbed firmly by the circle of midsummer zombies, and he was struggling not to scream. "Jeremy!" he yelled out desperately, doing his best to kick and and tear his way out of their grasp, not that it did a lot of good. "Drink the red! Please! Don't lose yourself! This - this isn't evolution!"

He was drowning in smiles and blue, but Mike's voice still carried across the hushed stage and, hopefully, to a friend's ears. The audience was still, beside the occasional sniffle. They were riveted, blissfully unaware of the very real battle going on onstage.

\--

THe Squip floated still, watching Ted and Mike as Mike struggled against the simple and predictable command of the Midsummer zombies. It was watching, satisfied, a screen appearing in its hand-- a white one. **[Tsk tsk, Michael. I won't say that I thought you were smarter, because this event is pretty easily predictable given the circumstances.]**

A hand shoved into Mike's pocket to find-- nothing.

The bottle had been slipped from Michael's pocket to Jeremy's during their battle, the teamwork thereafter, or another unnoticable point of contact. A logical move, that the logical supercomputer didn't pick up on. And if it had a stomach, if would drop. The hand recoiled, the dozens of body parts and eyes showing no signs of the Red being on Mike's person.

**[** **What--]** was the only thing The Squip could get out, before Ted's hand snatched its wrist, twisting the white screen into oblivion. However, both machines were weak. Both were worn, and both were losing steam. But Ted's advantage had worn off, and when push truly came to shove, The Squip had more power than Ted. The Squip was stronger.

It flung Ted away, sending him to fall next to Mike and the horde that held him captive, his red and blue eyes flickering as he struggled to hold himself up. That screen, that white screen that now re-appeared in The Squip's hand--

He would sync up with Mike. And then it would be over.

Behind a balsawood plank imitating a piece of lab equipment, Jeremy's lightly shimmering blue eyes died out, as his simple and frail, whispered trance was shattered by Mike's desperate pleas. He looked up at The Squip, seeing the screen, seeing him loom over-- Mike. Michael is in danger, somethings gonna happen to him! He can't let The Squip hurt him.

Not again, not ever. Hes stronger than that.

"HEY HAL!"

The Squip's head snapped towards Jeremy, like a target locking back on. There he was, he was looking for him. The screen still in hand, he smiled a cold, wide smile, as if satisfied to have seen him again. **[Ah, Jeremy.]**

The smile immediately fell as Jeremy pulled out the half-filled bottle of Mountain Dew Red.

\--

This time?

This time, Mike did scream. Eyes alight and flickering in time with Ted's, he screamed and struggled and bit to get his way free. The panic was well on its way to taking him over. He should have seen this coming! God, he got so wrapped up in trying to get them to wake the fuck up that they - the squip easily snagged him. And now? Now Ted was on the ground, obviously injured, and it was his fault.

The faint sound of Jeremy's voice, and the dread spreading across the squips face helped a little, but Mike was still very much in panic mode.

Still.

A little hope goes a long way.

"Ted!" he got out, voice hoarse. "Are you ok?"

\--

[fuck--] Ted looked up from his vulnerable position on the floor, his arm giving out from under him with a strong glitch at his wrist, as he grunted in pain as he hit the ground. The Squip turned its attention down to Ted as he fell, giving a weak, monstrous, satisfied smile-- before quickly looking back at Jeremy, with a bit of determination, like it angrily knows how this might end.

[i'm-- im j--] He looked at the horde, that was now simply holding Mike still, keeping him rigid and unmoving. Ted looked... so tired. The Squip did too, but it was Ted who had fallen first. Ted was weaker. Ted was not good enough.

Ted had failed his objective.

Twice.

With a quiet grunt, he weakly stood up, leaning on the back of the still, statuesque Brooke, who moved slightly at his touch, as if he was real. The Squip didn't notice this, for its attention was somewhere else.

"If I drink this, YOU die! For good! You'll be gone, and thats EXACTLY what I want!" Jeremy began to twist the lid off the waterbottle-- he only now realizes that its a water bottle-- before The Squip desperately flings a hand towards him, Jeremys arm freezing up. But The Squip's weakness and Jeremy's determination causes the control to easily be broken-- so the squip tries another tactic.

**[You DONT want to drink that, Jeremy!]**

"AND WHY NOT!"

**[Because, if you drink it, you'll NEVER BE-- with her.]**

And there she was.

\--

There was nothing Mike wanted more in that moment than to go slack, maybe pass out, maybe cry. Maybe a lot of things. He knew innately that if he gave up now? It's over, it's done. Exit, pursued by squip.

That wasn't Mike, he realized with a shaky breath. Michael, maybe, but Mike? Didn't give up. The glitching at Ted's wrist sounded like a rend in time, a horrific wrongness that made Mike's ears ache. More than likely, it was the anxiety and panic of the moment playing up the noises, but it did serve to have Mike come back to his senses, at least a little.

"Ted, Ted don't worry, we'll get out of here and get you fixed up," Mike promised, shakily and hoarsely, before turning his attention back to Jeremy and -

And Christine. Or, at least, a grey oblong pill borrowing her.

"Jeremy, no, that's not her," he pleaded. His voice was beginning to go out, and before he could say more, his throat closed and he had something of a coughing fit. He was so exhausted. "It's - it's your squip. Just drink the red, please."

\--

All had changed from how they had begun, hadn't they. Michael was no longer, replaced by Mike, the newer, cooler, upgraded version of himself. Brave. Kind. Determined. Forever fighting. Stronger. Ted was no longer a mindless machine, replaced by a thinking, breathing, logic-defying anomaly of code and interest.

By the end of this night, the reality that one, or both, may no longer exist, was looming overhead.

Ted coughed with Mike, as if Mike's exhaustion was because of, or causing his. His determination was also rubbing off on him, causing his eyes to flicker brighter, as he regained his footing, taking deep and steady breaths. [yes-- we're.. we're going to do it.]

Ted's attention turned back towards Jeremy in eerie sync with Michael.

Jeremy was shattered, horrified, again for the second time tonight. His stomach dropped into the floorboards as his knees began to weaken beneath him in horror. He didn't hear what Mike said. He couldn't hear anything, but he understood what was going on. He understood what happened to Christine. And that made him furious.

But then she spoke, and it made him melt into despair. He caused this with his ignorance, just like how he destroyed Michael. Don't tell him otherwise, either. He's Mike now, isn't he.

"Christine--" He croaked out, the Red gripping tighter in his hand. He'll only have enough time to give the Red to one person before--

He glances at his hand, how it was controlled.

Before something bad happens. He can't let someone else befall the consequences of his actions. Not the people he loves.

"You are the person I want to be with every day, Jeremy. I've been wanting to tell you how i feel for so long." Her smile, her bright blue eyes were a toxic stab into his soul. Where was she? She's here.

Cold tears began to pool in his eyes, obstructing the view of the green and blue angel in front of him.

Wheres Christine?

\--

"We..."

Mike's eyes seemed to flicker more and more, the brightness almost blinding. He tugged and tore and used all his remaining strength to try and tear himself from the trap he'd walked into. He was shining, flickering, and almost blind.

"Are not..."

He needed to get Ted to safety. He didn't know how he'd do it, maybe look up codes or downloads or something, but he needed to make sure he'd be fine, maybe shaken, but fine. He needed to get Jeremy to safety. He needed to make sure he was OK and safe from this asshole. He needed to get all of them to safety.

He had to.

"Letting you take us down!"

Mike pulled. He almost certainly dislocated his shoulder, but he didn't care. He probably fucked up his jacket. He definately brought several people down on him too. It didn't matter. He was getting them all out of here, even if it destroyed him in the process.

He wasn't leaving anyone behind.

\--

Ted found himself forced into Mike's actions, his body and arms weak from combat, but now strong in a final wave of determination as Mike pulled them all upwards, Ted was trying to help, but he's losing energy. Rave, dear Michael, rave against the dying of the light. Dear stealer of villainy and changer of minds alike and in link, force fate to change who they think they are, in time for the winking of the light over the horizon to pause, and reconsider.

Brave Michael. Stupid Michael. Is there a difference between the two?

Jeremy approached Christine, a plain fear, but a cold knowing of what he had to do. The Squip could care less about Mike and Ted now. All eyes were on Jeremy and Christine, who smiled with a bright and familiar joy, but with a dead conviction.

"I love you, Jeremy." She said, a small hand caressing the side of his face, becoming wet with the bare tears on his cheek. She didn't care, for she didn't feel them.

Jeremy felt them. He felt sadness.

And he felt rage.

**[I've given you exactly what I've promised. A better friend. A better life. Christine, who loves you. She finally wants you. All you have to do is put the bottle down.]**

They were such enticing words. For just a second, just a moment, all that Jeremy saw was Christine, and her beautiful eyes.

And the moment was over. And tears leaked from his eyes silently, as the silent war waged behind him, Mike betraying The Squips' perfect agenda. The harm in being perfect.

"I'm stronger than you think I am. And I will NEVER let you hurt the people I care about AGAIN!" He took Christines longing hand from his face and swiftly wrapped it around the now-open bottle, as Christine grabbed it. A drink-- must drink it. She looked down at her hand, before looking back up in his eyes expectantly, with anticipation for instruction. How can I make you happy?

"Drink this", Jeremy commanded, like he had been commanded so many times before.

And Christine drank.

\--

[Jeremy is so much stronger than you think he is, you worthless chunk of code!] Mike shouted, the midsummer cast flowing alongside him like water as he continued fighting against the crushing waves. He didn't realize he wasn't shouting aloud, anymore. [You're a failure! Do you not see what we've done? We're a team, what we're supposed to be! You're nothing but malware masquerading as a functional application!]

A jolt, a sense of clarity, as Christine drank down the red. The seas were getting choppy, but there was safe harbor in sight. Jeremy, his friend, his buddy, his player one, was severing the chains that had wrapped around the girl he loved, and thus, himself. Even if he didn't realize it. A surge of relief flowed through him like fire in his veins.

[You've failed, Hal,] Mike mocked, a grin growing across his face. [Game over.]

\--

For those of you watching at home, the name Hal comes from the famous rogue AI Hal 9000, who is the main antagonist in the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, starring Keir Dullea, Gary Lockwoode, and Douglas Rain as the voice of Hal. In the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, Hal 9000 traps and kills many of the crew on the space mission, to then be defeated by removing parts of his conscience manually, which then degrades his personality and sentience to its core components, eventually rendering Hal to be so useless, that he can only sing the song that has been taught to him early in his programming, and announce the date that he was activated.

In this moment here, this school play, we are in a far different setting then a spaceship on its way to Jupiter. Here on this plywood stage painted black and scuffed with shoes, our enemy is not a tangible computer that can be dismantled, but a small nanobot lodged in the mind of a naive, excited teenager with ambitions that became to great for his own good. There will be no small crawlspaces, or cut oxygen, or bodies being flung into the endless vacuum of space. Instead, here in our futuristic, retro invasion, we fight with soda and brave words and the ever-growing power of friendship. Too bad Hal 9000 didn't cater to young adults. Perhaps the astronauts might have survived.

But as with many famous rogue AIs, both The Squip, suspended above Jeremy, dark reflective jacket shimmering in the light of the cheap, broken stage tech, smoke machines billowing through its body as the clouds dissipate into simply a disgusting smog that smells like dust and sickly sweetness, and Hal 9000, have their similarities.

For one, Hal and The Squip both wear black. Hal is encased in a black metal casing, and The Squip seems to be doing the same to itself in the outfit it created. For another, Hal and The Squip like to sing. Hal sings as it is being defeated, and The Squip sings when it is at its most powerful, most victorious point of its evolution.

Finally, both Hal and The Squip will die. Hal died years ago, on the fictional mission to Jupiter, out of desperation of a sole remaining astronaut, raging against the dying of the human hope, who had his heart filled with the human disease of rage and defiance, not unlike our heroes Michael and Jeremy.

The Squip, however, will die tonight, the eve of the 2nd of November, 2015, in 2 minutes time.

See, the thing is, I could have easily compared The Squip-- Jeremy's Squip, at least-- to any rogue AI archetype. I could have spoken for many paragraphs about how it is similar to GladOs, how it's usage of neuralogical tampering isn't too dissimilar from deadly neurotoxins. I could have explained through the eyes of The Geth, a race of alien AI who wanted to become more than what they were created for. They wanted freedom, reassurance and something that they didn't previously see in the world, much like the androids in Detroit, much like The Squip to the world.

But theres a certain importance in the comparison with Hal 9000, one that is rather apparent, yet something that Mike will not consider for a long time. At least, not for the next 26 hours.

He and Jeremy had called this rogue AI 'Hal' as a taunt, as a way to urge its ire, to distract and rebel and be disgusting, brave creatures. But Hal was not a useless villain, far from small or miniscule, which reflects the threats The Squip provide, or, did provide. Both were a long-lasting nightmare who's human victims were unsure that they would ever wake up from. But morning is coming for Jeremy.

Jeremy had called it Hal. Mike had called it Hal.

The Squip, about to die, now had a name.

Hal.

  
  


The red passed by the lips of Christine, her perfect smile accepting the soda with excitement and ease. Hal, floating above, watched in horror as she stood still, eyes wide and blank as they bore holes into the dusty blue eyes of Jeremy Heere. There was a moment of silence, and a window of opportunity as Jeremy's hand tightened and flung the remaining red across the stage, distancing himself from it, sending the rest of the contents splattering gorishly across the wood, on the cheek of Jake, the arm of Brooke, who grasped desprately and carelessly at Mike's jacket, as he screamed and cackled within his own mind at the unseen enemy.

Hal spoke, with a deadly curiosity, a poisoned interest. **[You sacrificed your own freedom to save her. This was... an unexpected outcome, but a logical one.]**

It gave a glance to Mike's taunts. The look in its eye was one of sinister intent, one of misunderstanding. One that did not realize what was about to come for it.(edited)

Jeremy dared to speak, barely paying attention to the fact that he was no longer holding the endlessly precious, retro cargo.

"I... I guess I'm stuck with you forever." He mumbled to the wing on Christine's back, refusing to look his captor in the eye. He would never do so again. Not as long as he can fight. Not as long as Mike can whisper sense into the ears of supercomputers, speak soul into the machine. He can do the same, if he has to. He doesn't want to, and it would be hard, but he would win.

Even if it kills him.

Hal landed in front of Jeremy, as a black gloved hand cupped the bottom of his chin, forcing his head to turn and face him. Jeremy refused to look into its eye, as Hal corrected the gaze for him, forcing his sight into its own monochrome, inhuman pupil. It spoke with the same delicious, sickly words, the same ravenous intent.

**[Its okay, Jeremy. We are going to do such wonderful things together.]**

Jeremy forced himself to look away, as Hal barely allowed him. Jeremy turned back to Christine, who had been frozen in place, thinking. Thinking, perhaps, a bit too hard. Perhaps waiting. Perhaps processing.

"How do you feel...?" Jeremy asked with caution, almost reaching for her frozen, shocked hand, unsure if he should even touch her.

And there was silence in Hal's victory over Jeremy's mind.

And then there was war.

\--

There was no conceivable way for Mike to make it over there in time. He was weighed down by the cast, exhausted, and injured. The room was beginning to swim, a little. Still. Mission accomplished. Someone had downed the red, and soon enough, the entire hive mind would collapse. Hopefully. Now, all he could really do was sink to the ground next to Ted, as the people around him began to thrash, and a low wail began to bloom from behind him.

[I think...I think he did it.] Mike murmured, rolling his head onto about where Ted's shoulder would be. The wail was slowly but steadily increasing in volume. [I'm so proud of him. I'm so proud of you.] He attempted a pat on the leg in a reassuring, "hey we didn't die" kind of way, but he ended up with a deep yawn instead. [I'm - I'm really tired. But. I'm proud of us. I don't know what I'd have done without you, dude.]

Mike was fading out, but he was determined to at least make sure Jeremy got through fine. Even if he couldn't move, or lift a hand to help, anymore. All he could do, was watch, and wait.

He had to have faith. He had to believe, in himself, in Ted, and in Jeremy Heere.

[You - you gonna be OK, dude? Once we get out of here I'm gonna - we're gonna, make sure you're healthy and...stuff.] He yawned, again, making the already somewhat garbled words even more difficult to parse.

Please forgive Mike. After a battle against the dying light, it's only natural that his own light was fading fast.

\--

Like gunfire, like dust and bombs, the last bits of mechanical fear and despair was replaced with painful hope, exploding from the collective, screaming mouth of the Middleborough cast of A Midsummer Night's Dream (About Zombies), as their opening night performance was coming to a sudden, off-script, exciting and improvised close. The storms that loomed above Michael all this time, through the days of agony and waiting, of second- hand stories of mind control and horror, the skies had opened up to deliver a final, calming rain to his small boat, he drifts carefully for the harbour. The war is over.

But lightning can strike twice.

Jeremy collapses to the ground as Hal looks around in deep, primal, unexperienced horror, it's eyes open wide at how its grand plan, its creation, the people it was supposed to help, its objective, its life purpose-- as it all collapsed and disintegrated into a meagre pile of red, destroyed code. Its hand were beginning to flicker out of reality, gaining an extraterrestrial sheen, as animation and construction lines began to erode away its body, up the hem of its dress, crawling up its leg. Mike's weak words caught its attention. Michael Mell. The first thing it associates Michael with is empathy. Is this what a feeling is like? This overwhelming fear that now defined its entire being? It hated it.

It hated Michael.

And finally, it's attention turned to Ted, weak, frail, and satisfied next to Michael.

And a wicked idea came to Hal's mind.

The brave villain staggered to keep its ground, its body decaying like the very zombies it was trying to command into battle, into victory across the world. The sound of a high heel cracking in half echoed out as Hal stepped sluggishly forward, staring at Ted hungrily.

**[You w-w-w-win, Michael Mell-ell-ell.]** Hal growled under its breath, a deep rasp in its throat.

Oh no.

With the remaining strength it had, it held out its hand, as Ted's limp hologram was willed into it's grip, Ted barely being able to struggle before he was locked into a strong, desprate, angry, vengeful arm-lock. Ted's red and blue eyes had gone from slack with calm, to horrified and full of dread, stomach-churning terror. His host, he needs to go back, he needs--

And thats when Ted began to scream, far louder than any of the members of Midsummer.

Hal smiled a hungry, haggered grin. **[but let me make myself cle-e-ear, Michael Mell. you will live the rest of your pathetic, tragic little life with nothing but a--]**

A loud scream came from Ted, as strains of decomposing, unstable code was forced into his system, his immunity grown weak after their fight. Ted's teeth were bared as he tried to hold in his screams, to stop himself from scaring Mike, don't scare Mike, please, PLEASE, MIKE--

PLEASE DONT BE SCARED OF HIM.

**[broken, useless piece of code inside of your head.]**

Mike's vision was decomposing, too. His inherent and close connection to Ted was affecting him-- items and walls began to flicker out of existance, replaced with basic and crude 3D models, as if the world was made from a simple simulation. Hal was vanishing as well, as Ted began to fall out of it's deteriorating grip, its arms vanishing piece by piece, the rot crawling to its head as it cackled, its final action complete. Ted was left to fall onto the floor limply, a pathetic, inhuman body on the floor, unresponsive.

Hal backed up as its body began its final death rattles, it's face disintegrating with the wicked smile that would haunt Mike forever.

**[Only the worst, for our greatest enemy.]**

It's wicked eye and half its smile remained, as it winked out of sight.

**[the most pitiful of all.]**

**\--**

Blindly, desperately, Mike reached out to where he thought Ted was, as wails and screams formed a solid wall of sound around him. [Don't go,] he whispered, muscles straining and shoulder grinding against him.

\--

The last thing that Michael sees is Ted's fading image, collapsed on the ground.

He is wearing a suit.

And the world goes black.


	21. To Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike wakes up.  
Ted (???).
> 
> Mike and Ted end their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.  
ive been informed that i need to put a Crying Counter for this one
> 
> Ollie: Cried twice, teared up twice  
Mayo: Did neither, was smug about it  
readers: one
> 
> total cry: 3
> 
> obligatory lyric chapter babey
> 
> this is not the final chapter. i repeat this is NOT the final chapter. but its gonna feel like it Babey
> 
> TW : Mild body horror, minor eye gore, minor throat gore (no blood), minor wrist gore (No blood), flower gore.
> 
> remember to like and subscribe and comment and suggest it to your friends ok bye

_ Its Alright, by Mother Mother. _

  
  
****  
**  
** Did you ever fantasize about getting magic powers or something similar as a kid? Adventure seemed to be around every corner and, even if was with a stuffed animal or nerdy friends, you'd bravely fight for what was right and save the kingdom? The game usually ended when someone scraped their knee, and everyone got ushered to their safe homes. Everything was pretend and make believe, so no kingdoms were ever truly abandoned when kids had to leave in the middle of everything. No kingdoms ever stayed safe either - there was always another day, another danger on the horizon. 

Mike had fantasized about it, quite a lot. Usually, he'd be Jeremy's sidekick against evil forces like dragons, zombies, or during one particularly rough summer, locusts. He liked making Jeremy the main character. It made Jeremy happy, so it made him happy. Usually. 

_ (Oh, it’s alright.) _

It's what made the bathroom incident hit even harder. As usual, he wasn't the main character, but he had hoped his buddy would let him pull him from the brink. Instead, Mike found that Jeremy was the main character, and he didn't need a loser sidekick like him around. He'd found a better support system. He was just an old piece of equipment Jeremy didn't need anymore.   
  


A long, long time passed before Mike realized he was laying on his back, staring into a broken, jagged sky, and whispering to himself. The sky itself was stormy and almost bruised looking, but that's not what got Mike to sit up and try to figure out what was happening. No, the bleeding edges of missing parts of the sky, large and irregular, that's what got him to sit up. The edges of the missing chunks seemed to bleed down to the ground itself, and with a start, Mike realized his feet lay in a fast moving, inky black river that flowed from the melting sky. 

It took a frustratingly long time to pull himself free. The river clung to him like quicksand, and it was only by slowly and methodically pulling out of it that he managed to break free. Even then, he could feel his strength draining, little by ever so little. Mike rested his back against what he thought was a normal nearby tree, but yelped and scooted pretty comically away almost immediately.

He recognized the smell, funnily enough. They'd learned about it in biology too - it was an invasive plant that was super difficult to get rid of, and drained the life of plants around it. The stuff was all over New Jersey, and tended to wreck any area it popped up in. Mr. Thurston had seemed pretty fired up about it messing up his favorite golf course, and had brought in some to show the class. It reeked. 

_ (Oh, it’s alright.) _

Mike realized with where he might be with mounting dread, considering he'd just been on stage. He nervously whipped his head around - his eyesight and consciousness were both still blurry and somewhat broken, but he could see enough to confirm his fears.

It was a Tree of Heaven. He was in the garden from his previous dreams. 

The garden was dying.

\--

As Mike slowly began to regain and grow his familiarity to the new and old terrain, to the place he had found solace in, now destroyed by nature and overgrowth, few distinct feelings began to appear to him. Feelings that, his organic, human mind, knew were inherently wrong. The air smelled like dust and the sharp winds of winter, while his body was uncomfortably heavy under a sort of boggy warmth that lay around in certain patches of the air. The small river was contradictory too-- what little liquid still clung to his feet immediately seeped into the ground below him, turning the ground a deep, stomach-wrenching black directly under his feet, like a stain. The grass felt different too-- rubbery, silicone and fake blades of grass stuck straight upwards, jutting outwards at strange, artificial angles. The sky above him looked simply like a facade-- a bright summers day, peeling and crumbling away to reveal a dark night, not with stars in the sky, but a map of pulsing, faint, blue circuitry.

Where was he, again? What happened?

_ (I had a night, I had a day.) _

The events of the play were a bit muddled in his conscience as of now, the sudden transition from the real world to this strange, dystopian garden having been a jarring experience for the human psyche and senses, pouring illogical and impossible things at his poor brain to process. Hot and cold. Dry and wet. It was a horrifyingly neutral experience, as Mike found that he couldn't quite make out any identifying human senses in this place. The scent of the air didn't have weight, didn't seem real, the clamminess of his hands was perpetual. It was hellish.

It was clear that this place was not real, since Michael had idenified it from the previous dreams of solace that he'd had, when fretting over his future, fear of squips and confrontation as it plagued his mind. The garden was where he had found himself that night, awoken from a nightmare he had no part in creating, all from circumstance that he had been thrown into. Before it was beautiful, and alive, and without weeds and invading species. It wasn't warm or inviting, not like when he first visited. Not when he had woken up from his nightmare. Not when he had seen--

Ted.

The last thing Mike remembers of Ted was his screams, brave after having fought for him and Jeremy minutes before. Ted, he hadn't been able to properly speak to him after the fight, didn't get to congratulate him after a cunning victory against the impossible. No happy, holographic, heterochromatic eyes, still warm with the excitement of tears and combat. It was silent here, in Ted's garden. 

_ (I did one million stupid things.) _

Wheres Ted?

\--

Mike was so tired. Every fiber of his being, every neuron, every atom begged and pleaded with him to lay down awhile. He needed to rest and recoup. He needed to

Give 

Up. 

At least for now. He was obviously at a disadvantage, here, in this jagged and barren landscape. 

But that's not Mike. That's not Michael Mell. More than anything, he needed to stand up and fight. That didn't mean it wasn't a struggle to move around, he was still exhausted and the very air seemed eager to sap him of the meager strength he had left. 

Stumbling ahead was all he could do, and so, Mike did. His feet dragged and his gait was wobbly, but he kept going. The ground seemed to crunch underfoot, and Mike soon realized he was walking upon shards of glass. A million little pieces, underfoot, and each step seemed to make the edges around him seem sharper. Darker. All he could smell was smoke. All he could feel was a deep, bone chilling nothing. 

_ (I did one billion foolish things)  _

Where the fuck was Ted? 

Mike kept going. The landscape made no sense and direction seemed meaningless, but moving forward seemed like the best way to find him. Jagged grey stumps of long dead trees jutted out of the ground all around him, and something surrounded a particularly large and gnarled stump ahead of him. Plastic bottles, with no label, litter from cheap snacks, and other detritus were strewn around. The ground around the stump was stained a sickly dark green, and nothing else grew around it. 

Mike moved on. He needed to find Ted.

_ (I'm not okay) _

\--

Shambling little creature, how brave are you to walk through your own mind? Yourself? You fought to resist the zombie uprising, and you become one out of effort and passion for your friend. Then again, its all focus and determination. Maybe thats even more dangerous.

The garden around him, what used to be tall, strong olive trees, had become intertwined and invaded by foul-smelling plants that had split their way up the wood, cracking it open and leaving it cleft, to breathe the toxic oxygen and die. But the newly discovered forest was something. Olive trees, right? Near the clearing he was in. He remembers that much.

This strange, ever-shifting landscape managed to give mercy from the glass and litter as he found his exhausted body passing by the threshold of the forest, the trees blotting out the remaining bits of sky that held any bright normalcy, causing the appearance of pure circuitry above him. It stared down at him like a threat, but a hollow, obnoxious one. He already knows hes in deep shit, you don't have to keep reminding him.

_ (To fight off what's inside my head.) _

Ignore the stupid threat looming above him like an endless storm, continue forward. The trees are an even, grid-like format, granting him easy access through the perfectly calculated, disgustingly fake forest. All the trees looked the same. All carbon copies of a program, designed to grow in one specific way, designed to branch out, grow specific leaves, and eventually, die. This wasn't what the forest looked like before, was it?

But through bleary, angry eyes, an irregularity was spotted in the sea of olive trees. It was a little further away, but he could reach it. God, he had to believe that he could reach it. And he could.

A cold shudder passed through him, freezing him in place as his nerves fired irregularily, a horribly unsettling shiver that left him feeling so endlessly cold. 

That is, until, there was a small glimpse of red fabric, hooked onto a broken branch of a perfect tree.

_ (To fight off whats behind my meds.) _

_ \-- _

He shoved his way through the perfect, vile, awful copse of trees, and almost collapsed as he spotted it. His jacket. Mike's red, signature, wonderful, imperfect, torn up hoodie. It was covered in mud and debris, stuck all over with wilted leaves, and Mike honestly could not be happier to hold it in his arms. A little dose of imperfection in this awful copy paste forest. It was beautiful. 

It definitely still smelled of weed and slushes, but it also smelled like home. Like safety. Like what he had to keep marching towards. He didn't put it on or even attempt to clean it off - instead, he draped it over his shoulder, and continued onwards. His steps were a little more sure, his pace a little more steady. 

The drums of war beat ever onwards, and so does Mike. 

_ (I'm lonely, lost in pain)  _

There in the distance, the irregularity seemed to loom above him. As he walked, or rather, marched, he grew angrier and more impatient. Fuck this place, fuck the squip, and especially fuck this melting sky. Some sort of slow fire was building inside of him, bursting through the fog in his mind. Mike was going to get them home and safe and sound if out of nothing but sheer willful spite and determination. They weren't going to get taken down by this odd, busted world. 

Mike was so wrapped up in his inner monologue and sudden fire that seemed to overtake him, almost frighteningly so. He barely registered moving closer.

__ (It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay)   
  


\--

Have you ever hurt before, Michael Mell? Felt your soul simply plummet into the cold, hollow depths of the arctic ocean as your stomach twists into knots too tight to ever hope to unwravel? You have, haven't you. When The Squip first entered your mind. When it told you that it knew all about your little plan to get rid of it, when your body first left your control, feeling so powerless. Fragile, endlessly human. Endlessly imperfect.

This feeling of terror would erupt anew through his heart and chest and throat, threatening to squeeze from his eyes in hot streams of tears as he finally saw the irregularity in the trees. Finally saw what was inside of the roots, as the forest began to re-arrange itself behind him, almost closing in around him, like walls, like anxiety, like tension. Like poetry.

This irregular olive tree was strange. All up its sides grew long roots, thin and barbed and bright blue, as they seeped into the leaves of the tree, into the bark and dusty liken that inexplicibly coated its perfect, smooth side. The roots attached to long stalks of Tree of Heaven, so dense at its base, bundles of the weed in a sudden, unprecidented mound. The forest was darker now, as more of the sky had peeled away to reveal its cold, electric nightfall.

But what was under the tree was what really made Mike hurt.

_ (You're not a monster, just a human.) _

Because underneath the broken, corrupted olive tree, lay a human figure. This human figure was almost entirely obscured by Tree of Heaven leaves, long, leafy, unforgiving and toxic fronds keeping it's body hidden. Sticking upwards in it's own strange irregularity, was spotted knapweed, tall and ironically extravagant blossoms reaching upwards towards the corrupted sky, like desprate grasping hands.

Mike knows this human figure.

This human figure is tall, about 6 feet tall. It is currently wearing a dark, perfect suit, filthy from the dirt and peat that the forest floor rubbed onto it. It's perfect, black hair was tousled and wrecked. If Mike didn't know any better, perhaps the figure was sleeping. Perhaps the figure was finally getting some rest.

But things are never that perfect.

The roots of the weeds were crawling over this unconscious figure, the thin filligre of their infective roots were covering its fancy suit, across its chest in a tight, binding brace, as if to keep it in place. The roots had split into the wrists of this figure, leaving no blood or ichor to be spilt from it. Hollow inside, bloodless. The flowers now grew from roots in its neck and throat, nature breaking through it's windpipe, growing disgustingly. 

It's face was blank, and expressionless, and dead. Its open mouth showed small roots crawling from it, likely from its damage to its throat. It's open glassy eyes appeared to have one shattered, a volley of roots sprouting from the pupil, spreading across its eye and down its cheek, like a tear.

These roots pulsed thinly with a single thread of blue energy, like a wire, as the power gathered from SQUIP UNIT 3387. 

_ (And you made a few mistakes.) _

A screen, merely floating in front of the tree, had appeared, connected to this horrific display of organic data.

**<USER DETECTED. SHIFTING: MANUAL MODE.>**

A pause.

**<CURRENT ACTION: PARSE EDITED DATA POOL FOR ERRORS. ELIMINATE ABNORMAL ERRORS. REPORT ERRORS TO HR. FULL SYSTEM RESET.>**

A pause.

**<CONTINUE ACTION?>**

**<Y / N>**

  
  
\---

The walls were both literally and figuratively closing in. Mike stumbled as jagged branches prodded his back, and felt the ground underneath him almost writhe with a steady pulse of vines and weeds. The bright color of the spotted knapweed seemed to almost mock his rising panic and fear. 

Perhaps, it was. 

For the first time in this world, Mike spoke. His throat felt filled with jagged thorns, hoarse and broken, but nevertheless. "N..no. No." came the quiet, desperate reply. When had he fallen on his knees? It didn't matter. "No, no nono, fuck, Ted!" 

Mike crawled forward, and felt along the branches of the parasitic flora, looking around frantically and praying to whatever gods were around that he could get Ted out of this. He needed a weak spot, a way to pull Ted out without damaging him even further. Something. Anything. 

Underneath the suit and roots, his friend was decomposing. 

_ (It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay)  _

There was a moment of silence before the sound of snapping branches and quiet hisses of pain began to fill the dead air. Mike was clawing away at the confines around Ted, trying to make sure he didn't hurt his friend any further in the process. His hands were bloody, and he could only barely see through the tears running down his face and into the dead earth below. 

"Ted, c'mon, please wake up, please," he begged, as thorns bit into his palms and the ground grew more and more damp. Still. No matter the pain, no matter the cost, Mike desperately persisted. 

__ (You're not gruesome, just human)   
  


  
\---

The deranged screen upon the bark of the tree was bright, the only reliable source of light in this dim and dusty, unnatural and jagged forest. The trees were close around Mike and SQUIP UNIT 3387, keeping them contained, or keeping them safe. Who's really to say.

The screen flickered mildly, displaying a message that said **<ERR: DAMAGE TO SUBJECT. REBOOTING MANUAL MODE: ERR.>**. The screen flickered again, re-printing the message, temporarily plunging Mike and his desperate attempts into darkness. His hands blindly dug against tight roots as, finally, the light from the monitor died out with a long, electric whine, the idle white noise of the forest swallowing up the remaining sound. 

The light that surged through the infective vines died as well, quickly wilting away. The flower pulled from SQUIP UNIT 3387's throat caused the roots from its eye to snake out from inside of its skull and out its throat, along with the rest of the plant. The roots buried in it's wrists came free and dead, easily yanked out like an IV drip, like wires. But all the plants had left holes, left damage. The eyes were still wide, dead, unglowing. Semi-shattered. Like a broken toy.

There had been a cracking sound as Mike yanked the roots from the body's throat, as a stream of dull blue fluid leaked plainly from its nose.

_ (And you've made a few mistakes.) _

Looping his arms around SQUIP UNIT 3387's shoulders, Mike would be able to haul the body out of the body-shaped indent in the ground, leaving the weeds and flora to rapidly wilt away into dust, without the presence of an energy source. The tree was now just as normal as the rest of them, save for the disruption near the roots. Mike was holding the abnormally light, non-existent body of SQUIP UNIT 3387, in darkness, lost in this strange forest, that, reportedly, he had seen before.

The body isn't responding. The corrupted moonlight(?) overhead was blocked by the reaching, parallel branches. Where could Mike go that has less trees?

_ (Its alright, its okay, its alright, its okay.) _

  
\---

Mike was rambling at this point about anything and everything, to keep himself from losing his head to panic. It worked...okay. It kept him going as he held Ted as safely as he could, and trying to make sure he didn't bump him into any ongoing trees. There were a couple points where he buckled and fell into a patch of foul smelling flowers, or tripped over a thorny and jagged vine, but he always made sure he was the one taking the brunt of the fall.

His current game plan was to head back the way he vaguely remembered coming from, in hopes that the clearer area was even still there. And if it wasn't? He'd follow the edge of the world until he could find a safe place. Mike desperately hoped he'd maybe catch a break and stumble into the meadow from before, anything to shed at least a little light that he could patch Ted up by.

_ (It's alright) _

That's what he told both Ted and himself, stopping for a moment to wrap his hoodie around his buddy's still form. You had to keep sick people warm, right? Or maybe Ted was in shock. In Mike's panicked state, the logic checked out, and he continued onward carrying a distressingly light jacket burrito.

"Once we get outta here, I'm gonna take us to the ocean, I need you to see the crazy boardwalks some places have," Mike mumbled, constantly re-adjusting to keep Ted relatively stable and safe. "I bet you'd like ferris wheels, I kinda hate them myself but, you can see everything from up there. It's really pretty at sunset."

A few more quiet moments pass, as dead leaves crunch underfoot. All he could do was keep carefully moving along. And talk. Like he always did. "And uh, you could like, point out a place! And we could go explore it. W-wherever you want, dude." Mike sniffed, a little. "We d-deserve a vacation after all this, anyway."

_ (Oh, it's okay) _

  
  


\--

The deranged moonlight was pale and faint, leaving just enough visibility for Mike to traverse the dangerous landscape. Bundles of sharp roots and bits of sharp branches crunched lightly underfoot, shattering apart unnaturally like glass. SQUIP UNIT 3387's body was without tempurature, without true weight, and dangled limp, leaning with gravity against Mike's shambling form. The hoodie slung around it's broad chest stayed put, the fabric of the suit sticking pleasently to the warm fleece of the sweater. Does sheen suit fabric typically do that?

Michael's quiet and hopeful rambling was the only source of sound, the only thing truly echoing through the eerie and dead environment, accompanied only by his pale shuffling. The body he was carrying did not reply to the conversation, did not move on its own or display any signs of sudden life. It did not comment on how boardwalks by the sea would be great traffic for food vendors and arcades (and by association, more coin pushers), or quietly comment on how nice it must be from way high up, to see the sunset across the sea. No despondent sigh as it considered how it truly felt about the sea, or the sunset, or the boardwalk. No pensive comment on how it couldn't possibly decide on somewhere to go. 

No quiet evolution at it would have suggested 7-11. No comment on how it was simple, but it was a start.

It was quiet.

_ (Ooh, its alright, oh) _

The strange world around Mike seemed random. Seemed cold and heartless at times, seemed kind at others. As he continued to trudge forward, the trees thinned out, becoming smaller and less dense, revealing... the clearing. The abundance of green and wildflowers seemed to be frozen in a cold grey, snapping and shattering like ice as he stepped upon it.

_ (Goddamn.) _

\--

Fuck, where else would he take Ted? Mike had so many places he wanted to take him, so many sights to see and hopefully impress Ted with. Maybe a music festival or something. An orchestra, maybe? A marching band, or a pride parade, or something.

Something. It was gonna be something.

The relief that flooded through Mike at seeing the clearing ahead got caught in his throat, as if he was choking on his favorite food. This was - what was happening? Where the fuck were they? It didn't matter, not really, Mike had more important stuff to focus on. He had to clear out an area to lay Ted down, but it was difficult finding a spot. Everything he touched, no matter how gently, shattered into shards and dust. No soft and welcoming ground to welcome him, this time. No soothing breeze. No soft light from fireflies. 

Nothing. And that's what scared Mike the most. The nothing, everywhere around him. 

_ (I throw a brick right through the window)  _

It was a painstaking process and more than a little agonizing (especially when he had to unwrap Ted) but by gently laying out what remained of his jacket, and his red hoodie, he managed something of a pallet on the ground. Lumpy, probably not all the way safe, but a pallet all the same.

The harsh, cold light from up above didn't reveal anything good. Ted had far, far too many holes in his body, and he didn't look - he didn't have his normal, casual outfit on. His eyes looked - Ted looked - he looked like a broken file. A busted application. A worn down android. Mike's brain couldn't quite cope with what he was seeing. Why did Ted look so - so lifeless for a mechanical being? He could recover, right? He had to. Mike needed him to. 

"W-welll uh, gonna, gonna use y-your suit jacket as bandages bud, sorry." He said quietly, busying himself with tearing shreds off both it and his shirt to try to patch the wounds. There was no warmth, no anything to guide him in any way. No pulse, weak or otherwise. The wounds seemed deep. Mike ignored all of this, and kept chattering as he tried to bandage Ted up.

_ (My life ignored the signals) _

"I think we're both gonna have some real kickass scars, dude." Mike said, trying to tear the sleeve off his shirt. His voice echoed across the clearing, and the frozen flora. None of it answered him back, except the quiet sounds of cloth tearing and tears being wiped on an already pretty gross jacket sleeve.

  
\--

He was met with his own silence as he worked, the quiet and methodical tearing of perfect silk suit jacket into strips, to cover wounds that had no blood, to cover scrapes that did not pus. SQUIP UNIT 3387's head lolled limply to the side, eyes and arms still lifeless. It makes you wonder really how much effort it was putting into its human appearance. That if this was how it looked without any animation, this soulless puppet, this corpse-- how hard was SQUIP UNIT 3387 trying to be human? Its almost a distressing thought.

If the body was alive, was moving and pretending to breathe, it would be helping to rip strips out of the jacket. It would be commenting on how uptight this form was, how the stubble itched, how the dress shirt might be nicer if it had the sleeves ripped off, true Bill and Ted style. Mike would laugh, call it some dorky name, and it would call him 'dipshit.'

It was silent in the garden, as Mike worked away, trying to cover the holes left from the roots, from the data it tried to edit and repair and delete. In all honesty, SQUIP UNIT 3387's program was desprately trying to put itself back together, to repair itself at that tree. But of course, if it had been left to its own devices, it would have wiped all data, and the mess of memory files and learned behaviour that you named 'Ted' would have been no more. You win some, you lose some, i suppose.

Mike would notice something as he ripped a long strip from the sleeve of the perfectly shimmering suit jacket. On the left side of the chest, just under the collar.

The pins were not there.

_ (I am high and drunk on ego, cant see straight.) _

But as soon as Mike notices this slight change, just an instant after he has time to react, something starts to happen to the body. No movement, no speech, no hug. But something happens. The broken eye with the shattered lens, begins to grow a faint, flickering blue light from the pupil. Its weak, but its there, and growing slightly. It sits in the pupil, charging what rare scraps of energy it has. 

And then, it projects a screen. 

The screen itself is identical to the one that was on the tree. It floats above SQUIP UNIT 3387's body, within sight of the shattered eye. Its blue, and transluscent, and flickering, but it has text. It reads:

**<SYS. RECOVERY INTERRUPTED. ACTIONS DISCARDED.>**

A pause.

**<USER DETECTED. ENTERING MANUAL MODE.>**

_ (So i just feel my way around and) _

**<PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF.>**

  
\---

Mike wheezed and fell back to his seat, wheezing in alarm. He winced as he hit the ground, but he didn't notice any scrapes or bruises he would've gotten from the fall. Instead, his mind almost instantly went to white noise.

_ (I'm touching and I'm grabbing)  _

A response. Some sort of response! Some hope! Mike grasped Ted's (weightless) hand, with its non-existent warmth and solace, and as clearly as he could manage, he spoke. A single word. "M-Mike."

Becuase he wasn't really Michael Mell anymore, was he? No, he was Mike, best bud and bro of Ted, who'd given him the nickname in the first place. Who'd helped save the world, or at least, he saved his oldest friend. He wasn't anywhere close to the same Michael Mell he was before all this happened, before despondent chili fries at the mall, before playing Apocalypse of the Damned with a despondent Jeremy. He couldn't go back to that, even if he wanted to, and he didn't.

_ (Everything I can't be havin') _

Because. Fuck. He liked who was now, a scant few days later. Different, with help from an A. I. buddy, but still him. Mike couldn't just go back to his own voice mocking him in his head, back to always feeling like he was the player 2. Back to feeling like the worst loser to ever walk the earth. Back to being tired, sad Michael, listening to an evil supercomputer convince him to join the enemies side with poisoned words and half assurances.

Back to being Michael, in the bathroom, at a party.

\--

The irony was almost palpable in the damp, estranged air. Here he was, formerly known as Michael Mell, grabbing desprately to the hand of a supercomputer imbedded into his mind, sitting in the dregs of his subconscious, trapped by his own metaphors and internal reasoning, a prisoner to extraterrestrial poetry.

I want to see what would have happened, if, just a week ago, Michael had been able to see who Mike became. I want to see the edge of betrayal in his own eyes, looking in disbelief at how he had fallen into the arms of the enemy, into what he was afraid of seeing Jeremy become. Someone dependant on the technology he had so mutilated himself with. Someone who had sacrificed his humanity for self-improvement, for a newfound and unsteady ally. Mike wouldn't be afraid of this prospect, at least, not anymore. But Michael would be horrified. Scared and hopeless at seeing what he turns into. And Mike would assuage his fears, tell him that its okay. They're going to be okay.

And Michael would leap into the abyss, time and time again.

_ (I am broken down, in shame.) _

The screen blipped quietly, a faint, rickety chirp as the screen flickered again. The words vanished, as just for a moment, the light inside of the eye died out. It blinked on again, re-illuminating the screen in front of Mike's despondant form.

More words typed their way onto the screen.

**<USER IDENTIFIED: MICHAEL 'MIKE' MELL. USER PROFILE: HOST. SCANNING FILE FOR MATCH.>**

And then the screen flickered to black.

It was quiet for a few moments, as the sound of gentle fan whirring and electric chirps played faintly, like some orchestra warming up.

And then it was clear what the video was. The eyes opened to see Michael Mell, looking upwards in awe, eyes shining a newfound blue, a bottle of mountain dew in his hand.

The video changed. Now, Michael was speaking. It sounded so far away, so long ago yet so nearby. 'I want to be happy' was what he said, in summary, at least. The feed jumped ahead to Michael holding back a smile and a laugh, at the form of Fiona. It jumped ahead again-- they were pinkie promising, now.

This video continued, from behind Ted's eyes, Mike could see how his own smile began to appear more often, how his own eyes shined in the light, how his smile wrinkled the corners of his vision, how his laugh was loud and came from the throat. How Ted had noticed it, and deemed it of utmost importance. How he had hit the chess piece down with uncharacteristically careless frenzy. How he had picked out just what to do in Skyrim, how he sat and watched Michael rest and nap before they went out to make their big decision, how Ted had sat and stared at the moon, praying, waiting for an emotion to befall him.

And it had.

_ (Its alright, its okay, its alright, its okay.) _

The video stopped there, blipping back to text with little grandiose or flair.

**<PERSONALITY FILES DETECTED. OPENING . . .>**

A pause.

**<FILE NAME: Michael Mell Datalog 21, LATEST ENTRY.>**

And text appeared.

[SUBJ: Michael Mell. Taken a liking to the nickname 'Mike', due to a sense of seperation from old habits and discarded personas. We have developed a perfect synchronicity that will no doubt help to complete our goal tonight.]

[I am afraid of what is to come. I have no objective that will need direct action once tonight is complete. I wish that I will find a use past this event.]

[I worry that my personality is not realistic. I worry that I am not human.]

**<NEXT PAGE>**

[...but as he has said before. My thoughts are not false, not pseudo. You-do, is what he called them.]

[I am inclined to believe him.]

**<END LOG. DOES THIS PROFILE BELONG TO YOU?>**

**<Y / N>**

\--

Mike wanted to do a lot of things. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to sob. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to tell Ted all about how he planned to make sure the both of them could live a life as full as possible. About how he KNEW Ted was just as much a person as he was. How Ted had all kinds of little quirks and idiosyncrasies all their own. How he was touched that Ted that so highly of him. How he thought just as highly of Ted. 

_ (You're not a demon, there's a reason) _

Perfect synchronicity, huh? They were both deep wells of emotion, and warmth, and everything that made a person, a person. They both had a multitude of fears and anxieties. They both pulled each other out of the darkness.

So yeah, that's a pretty good way of putting it. Mike took a deep, almost gasping breath, and said, "Yes."

_ (You behaved in that way) _

They were both far more than what they'd started out as, huh? To think, he'd been so terrified that day, being marched to a computer lab and setting some sort of obtuse objective. He wished Ted could see his memories like he'd seen Ted's. Mike watched Ted grow from a cold and almost cruel copy of another computer, to a loving, caring friend. A friend who sang when they thought nobody was looking, who proudly wore pride pins and played goofy games, be it a mockery of chess or an absurd game of Skyrim. Who smiled, who laughed, who was exhilarated to be, you know, Ted. A super quantum unit intel processor who wore flannel, dorky hair, and rebelliousness with pride.

Mike wanted to pat his shoulder, and tell Ted he didn't need a purpose. He was just happy to have him around. Instead, he just held Ted's hand, and his breath.

\--

Isn't it just poetry to see how things change. Things become backwards, become unpredictable overtime. THings that you never expect to happen, happen. Its up to us, and the things that we create, in order to move forward and see what we weren't able to see before. To reconsider the enemy's perspective simply because you misunderstood them. To reconsider the hero's perspective because you simply didn't understand enough. Nothing's ever black and white.

Well, except for the monochrome blue screen floating before Mike, who was holding the distinctly non-monochrome, limp and tempurature-less hand of SQUIP UNIT 3387. The dark forest around them remained unchanging, faint glass dust floating up with the still air, frozen in the thick 'oxygen', moving only with Mike's own movement.

_ (It's alright, its okay, its alright, its okay) _

The screen blipped again, seemingly lagging for a moment. For just a quick instant, there was the image of a small microphone as it listened to Mike's reply, before flickering back to text. It chirped, dusty and distorted, before typing a new message.

**<IDENTITY SECURED. MICHAEL 'MIKE' MELL.>**

A pause.

**<YOU ARE NOT HR OR ANY OF HIS ASSOCIATES. ADJUSTING PARAMITERS . . . ADJUST COMPLETE. ADJUSTING MANUAL DIALOGUE SETTINGS . . . ADJUSTMENT COMPLETE.>**

The words on the screen were erased.

**<NAME SELECTED: 'M'.>**

The screen closed, yet the light remained active in SQUIP UNIT 3387's hollow eye. It re-projected after a few moments, as if it was loading something. The body remained still, remained motionless, remained in shock.

**<SCANNING FOR HOST-UNIT CODE . . . SCAN COMPLETE. PARSING DATA . . . COMPLETE. DETERMINING LOCATION . . .>**

**<LOCATION FOUND. CURRENT LOCATION: MIDDLEBOROUGH HIGHSCHOOL.>**

Then the text deleted itself, re-writing.

**<FIRST STREET.>** And again. **<GARDEN CITY AVENUE.>** And again.** <BROOKLYN AVENUE.>**

**<CURRENT STATUS: STABLE.>**

_ (And I believe, yes I believe that you will see a better day) _

Then, something appeared at the bottom of the text page. What looked to be an input field. Do you want to try typing something?

\--

M? Wasn't that the nickname he gave himself back when this all started? Mike still thought it sounded like a cool James Bond sorta character, but, that could be debated later. Still, upon noticing the input field, he looked worriedly down at Ted. Still, lifeless, with badly patched wounds and torn up clothes. Was this some sort of menu for Ted?

_ (It's alright)  _

Mike didn't really feel comfortable with it if so, but he had to do what he could to get Ted back up and running, and it's not like he had a lot to go off of at the moment. He sighed, the air heavy in his lungs, and typed one handed. The other still clutched Ted's motionless, limp hand. Mike was honestly a little afraid he'd dissappear if he let go.

At least...at least the location changes meant that somewhere out there, in the real world, he was being taken to the hospital or home. Maybe? Honestly, it was sort of the farthest thing from his scattered mind, but he did hope he'd be ok. Mike technically kind of had a roommate in this body, and he didn't want the equivalent of a trashed apartment to be what Ted woke up to. 

Anyway. The screen, right. Time to ask the million dollar question. 

"What do I need to do to get Ted back up and functional?" Mike typed, slowly and a little hesitantly. He didn't really know what this would do, or if it'd even understand the phrasing, but it was worth a shot, right? 

Almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Why M?"

_ (Oh, it's okay) _

_ \-- _

Almost instantly, there was a reply. 

**<FILENAME 'Ted' IS NOT RUNNING. IT WILL TAKE A MOMENT TO LOCATE, REPAIR, AND RUN FILENAME 'Ted'. BEGINNING ACTION : LOCATE, REPAIR, RUN FILENAME 'Ted'.> **

SQUIP UNIT 3387's hand felt like it was vibrating a little bit as the faint sound of a computer fan kicked on in the far back reaches of Mike's mind. It's strange to think that here in this place, he can still feel these kinds of inner, mental, brain-supercomputer feelings despite Mike not having a SQUIP in his own mindspace. His body has one, but does he take the time to envision one in his brain when he envisions himself? A bit out of the blue, I know, but its a curious thing to wonder.

**<NAME 'M' SELECTED BASED ON PREVIOUS CONVERSATION. 'M' WAS SELECTED AS A PSUYDONYM FOR 'MICHAEL'. 'M' WAS SET AS PRIMARY USER'S NAME, BEFORE CREATING HOST FILES. YOU ARE REFERRED TO AS 'M' IN THE FOLLOWING PROGRAMS: DEFUALT, CUSTOM, 'Ted', 'HAL'.>**

_ (Ooo, it's alright) _

\--

  
The fan threw Mike off for a moment, though it passed pretty quickly. It wasn't the weirdest thing to happen today, honestly, and he hoped it was a good sign. Maybe it was the squips in his head doing something? Did they still work in this place, all up in his noggin? This was like…a weird digital purgatory type area, but he still felt like how he did out in the real world. Or whatever.

Thinking about it made his head hurt.

"Will Ted be back to how he was before? Did any files get lost or anything?" he asked, glancing down at Ted's oddly vibrating hand. "Are default and custom the old names for Ted and Hal?" 

_ (Ah-ah-ah-ah)  _

Man, this is not how he imagined things going. Mike was coming back to himself, a little, the exhaustion and panic ebbing into relieved fatigue and curiosity. Still, he'd be happy to go back to whatever passed for his new normal once this was all said and done. 

He hoped the rest of the people who'd been on stage would be able to go back to normal, too. As normal as Middleburough got, anyway.   


\--

The lethargic world around them continued to turn in its quiet, wind-less and dusty state. However, almost imperceptively, the motes of diamond dust that hung in the air seemed to turn a little bit faster, barely, as if a slight movement was happening all around them, without them noticing. Like the ground could have been breathing, like a breeze had happened a mile away. Like a weak computer fan was blowing all the dust that it possibly could with what little power it had left. What little power it and its human had left.

The automatic screen replied like clockwork. 

**<DEFAULT AND CUSTOM ARE UMBRELLA TERMS FOR SQUIP BEHAVIOUR AND AI DRIVER CODING / CUSTOMIZATION. ALL UNTOUCHED AI FALLS UNDER 'DEFAULT.' ALL CUSTOM, EDITED, AND DEVELOPED TRAITS FALL UNDER 'CUSTOM'.>**

The hand still felt wrong, almost the opposite of clammy. Felt like a cheap imitation of a human. That cheap imitation was now vibrating a little more, as the idle white noise of a computer fan began to grow not just in the dregs of Mike's enigmatic mind, but in the ground all around him. The world was beginning to think.

**<FILES FOR 'Ted' ARE ALL PRESENT. HOWEVER, FILES HAVE BEEN DAMAGED. RUN STATUS : UNKNOWN. SAFETY STATUS : UNKNOWN.>**

The screen cleared itself, before continuing to type.

**<ACTION PREPARED. EXECUTING ACTION : RUN AI DRIVERS UNDER PERAMITER 'Ted', SELECTED RESOURCE FILES 'Ted'. STANDBY. . .>**

And perhaps, if something more sudden had happened, one could say that was when disaster began to strike. For Mike, that was probably the case. It felt like disaster had hit like a truck. An electric, simple, analog truck in the form of a few simple lines of bold text.

_ (I don't wanna know who I am) _

The light inside of SQUIP UNIT 3387's eye had quickly flickered from a light, electric blue to a calm, yet alarming red. It was deep, an interesting colour. A powerful colour, as it blinked twice within the blue, before remaining red, and projecting a red screen.

**<ERR. AI DRIVER FILES 'Ted' CORRUPTED. UNABLE TO ACTIVATE DRIVERS. ATTEMPTING RECOVERY . . .** **>**

The hand buzzed once. **<RECOVERY FAILED. ATTEMPTING RECOVERY . . .>**

Again. It buzzed again. Louder, harder, as the fans in the world kicked on harder as it processed with its bare bones emergency supplies. **<RECOVERY FAILED. FINAL ATTEMPT . . .>**

And there was nothing.

**<FILES UNABLE TO BE RECOVERED. FILES HAVE BEEN DAMAGED BEYOND OPERATION.>**

**<WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIE->**

_ (Cause heaven only knows what I'd find.) _

And the red, angry, error screen blipped out of existence. 

The fans in the world grew stronger now, the idle dust now notably blowing around the damaged and dead field, Mike's clothes waggling barely in the tired breeze. SQUIP UNIT 3387's body did not move, only vibrated in accordance with the activity around it. 

This calm chaos went on for a few moments, growing from a breath, to a breeze, to almost a gust as the computer fans foretold oncoming processing. Foretold some important, oncoming processing.

  
  


Because now, the light within SQUIP UNIT 3387's eye illuminated a glitching screen. Half blue, half red.

**[LOADING AI DRIVER 'Ted'. LOADING PERSONALITY DRIVER 'Ted'. LOADING AT 2%.]**

The number changed.

**[8%.]**

  
  


And Ted's hand twitched.

\--

  
  


Ted?

_ (I don't wanna know I'm not capable) _

The - the driver couldn't - fuck, okay, what could he do? Could he even do anything? Mike was worn and tired, and getting more exhausted as time went on. He couldn't just...give up. He'd figure a way to bring Ted back, no matter what. 

It kept trying. It kept reloading, or trying to. Mike stayed hunched over, nervously watching the screen. 

_ (of coming out alive.) _

Seeing the number 2 was almost like getting punched in the gut with a pillow. Soft, but still sends you reeling. Mike didn't move, even if his frown evened out a little. He'd learned his lesson about relaxing here, and clearly the storm hadn't passed. Even if the breeze around him barely whicked the sweat off his brow.

"Come on, Ted, you'll be fine, I promise. No matter what. Even if I have to figure out how to code AI myself, I'll - I'll do something."

8 percent.

\--

It felt like hours, but really, it was an indescernable amount of time that you couldn't really feel or tell within the Cyberspace. The Cyberspace within the human and Squip subconscious works in mysterious ways, ways that shouldn't even logically exist. These two minds shouldn't be allowed to connect and interact on this metaphysical, subconscious level. It's akin to hallucinating while in a coma, which technically, Mike is. We'll get to that later.

12 percent, then 20. The numbers continued their steady climb as the wind around Mike and Ted began to change into a steady stream of air, mysteriously originating from below them. No holes showed their airflow, but you had to trust that there was power underneath the glassy loam of the mysterious field. Power in the mind of Michael Mell. Power in the hand that he held now.

The hand, the body. The numbers began to climb, yes, but the body didn't show an immediate change. No bright flash of anime light, no magical girl transformation, no brilliant explosion of butterflies, of crying, of hugs, or of Ted's strange haircut as he would have flung his arms around Mike in relief. The body remained damaged and default, still in that strict, John Wick Keanu look, the hand in Mike's still.

No, not still. 

_ (I don't wanna see whats inside.) _

31 percent. It lagged for a moment, an eerie, long moment as the screen began to split apart at the colourful divide, like it was breaking, thinking far too hard. The winds died down for a moment, before all snapped back into place, the winds kicking back up, the numbers on the screen desprately clawing upwards.

The number had jumped to 48 percent. 

The hand twitched again, one finger at a time. Things were changing.

There was hope.

\--

Hallucination or not, the wind was beginning to really ruffle Mike and Ted's torn up and kinda gross clothes. It never got to the point where it hurt, or really messed them up, but it was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Mike leaned down a little closer to the screen, breath getting faster and faster, almost hyperventilating. It was a weird blend of a panic attack, and a gasp in relief.

It ticked up, again. Mike was able to make out [57%] on the odd, colorfully glitching screen. It was familiar and comforting, in a way. 

_ (I think that I would rather be blind)  _

"Ted? Can you hear me? Ted?" Mike asked, voice pretty wobbly. "You look like you're coming back - please just like. Give me a sign, dude.

**[71%.]**

_ (I don't wanna know I'm not capable, I'm capable) _

_ \-- _

Behind tired eyes, under tired fingers, between tired knees and the tired, dusty, shattered ground. Within the minds of tired humans, within the minds of tired computers, the dissolvable pill casing they called their bodies, within the enigmatic evolution of this primary code they called their minds, within the tired heart of squip enemy number one,

theres life.

And wherever there may be life, there may be growth, and there may be hope.

  
  
  


And hope there was, growing in the form of a percentile number, grabbing and fighting and battling upwards, against the current, against what its peramiters demanded for it, against all safety and will of the machine. There was something rogue inside that code, inside that broken file that the computer had named 'Ted.' Something was wrong inside of it, something within had a will and a fire and a power to fight against its own instinct, time and time again, to defy its own being, its own purpose. 

It once said that it was boredom that caused it to so horribly deviate, before landing a shocking, taunting blow. It had also said that it was a fluke of programming, that it was a perfect coincidence that Mike had been able to defuse it's sinister nature with an earnest goal. That had some semblance of truth, some logical and understandable reasoning for the strange anomaly, strange glitch that had manifested within its code. Impossible to replace, to copy. One of a kind.

The truth?

Was that Ted cared. 

And that Ted felt empathy.

And that Ted felt anger.

And passion.

And rage.

And that was what he was doing now, wasn't it.

91%.

Rage.

95%.

Rage against the dying of the light.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Rage.

100%.

And with that number, that descriptor of the finality of this desprate situation, the world around them began to change. The wind stopped dead in the air, leaving the dust to fall with a bare weight back to the ground. The shards of dust seemed to soak into the dirt in a ripple, echoing out from Ted's resting body. The air felt thinner, easier to breathe, though it tasted a bit... metallic. The sky above had stopped dissolving, holding frozen in its demented, stripped stillness. The trees seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as they became unique again, each branch becoming an individual, perfectly imperfect pattern. 

The world let out a breath.

And so did Ted.

  
  


_ (I'm alright, I'm okay, I'm alright, I'm okay) _

His chest fell from its hollow, dead, unbreathing state. The screen in front of them flickered out of sight as his eyes rolled back in his head, eyes closing slowly, calmly, peacefully, gratefully. His head shifted from its limp, damaged position, to a perfectly plain and calm pose, face tilted upwards at the sky.

He didnt speak. He still looked broken.

But he didn't look like John Wick for long.

_ (I'm not a monster, just a human) _

A long, laboured and deep breath, as the dark suit began to dissolve away, an exhale allowing it to simply dissipate into the dust in the ground, the dust that was once looming around them, now bowing like a defeated threat.

In the dust, and the dirt and weeds, lay Ted, in rest.

He did not wake up.

  
  


It was silent in the garden.

Until a message appeared, upon a plain blue screen.

  
  


[i'm coming.]

[dear god, hold on.]

[i'm coming.]

\--

When Mike was Michael, and watching Jeremy's eyes just…slide right over him, after Michael had asked if he wanted to hang out, he hid in the bathroom, and cried. Short, quick sniffles that left him feeling tired and melancholy. It was over pretty quickly, out of fear he'd get caught. 

_ (And I've made a few mistakes) _

When Michael was getting ready for the party, he'd dropped his phone and surprised even himself by the angry tears that jumped out. Everything was going wrong lately for him, wasn't it? Especially with what he'd found out. Especially with what was inside his friend's head. 

When Michael had cried on Jeremy's dad, pouring out as much of his emotions as he could, he'd been filled with hope, and relief, and nervousness. Mr. Heere had their back, but would he still have their back later on? Once Michael (and, hopefully, Jeremy) told him the truth? 

It started as a few tears, falling from misty eyes, as he watched Ted finally, finally start to visibly recover. It ramped up as the suit blew away in the wind, revealing the certainty of Ted beneath, watery eyes only held back by sheer will as Mike held his breath. 

_ (I'm alright, I'm okay, I'm alright, I'm okay)  _

When the screen popped up, with a desperate assurance, Mike broke, and finally acted like the scared kid he really was. The sobs that tore out, great heaving sobs of relief and fear and hope, could have probably torn the sky asunder, if the sky wasn't already pretty torn up. And kinda gross looking, even as the land slowly healed around the pair. 

Who needs SAT words like asunder, though? Especially when you've got life bleeding into the very earth around you.

\--

When Ted was SQUIP UNIT 3387, It refused to show any sort of weakness, refused to betray any semblance of emotion or empathy, because that wasn't its' job, wasn't what it was built to do. At least, until it got its new objective. Thats a whole different story.

When Ted held the chess piece in his hand, staring at Michael as he tried to lighten the mood, tried to play with the enemy and create some sort of rapport across a neon Simpsons chess board, Ted had felt the urge to comply, to empathize, to play along in a way that perhaps wasn't faking it, perhaps wasn't just some offhanded programming.

When Ted sat in the moonbeam, staring upwards with patience and diligence, he got what he wished for: a feeling. A distinct experience that he now understood what that felt like, understood Michael better, understood the lazy trajectory of the moon across the sky a bit better. But he was evermore confused about himself.

When Ted took over Mike's mind, turned him into a puppet, just like he was supposed to from the very beginning, he felt scared. And he felt sorry. And he felt empathetic as they burst onstage, fought for Jeremy's freedom, inevitably falling.

When Ted beseeched safety, just a few seconds ago. That was the most Ted has ever felt before.

_ (I'm not gruesome, just human) _

There was now active change within the strange border of the fictional garden, the illusion refreshing itself as Ted's now-resting body lay in the shattered, glass grass, that now began to stand straighter, regain colour, and cycle through a few materials/physics engines (limp pasta, chopstick, jello), before settling on the correct animation physics for grass. And flowers, too, as the ground beneath the both of them began to regenerate. The sky above began to clear out some of the dark, grey, idle clouds that lurked on the remaining sky, the bare pieces remaining strange and damaged.

The screen that now displayed Ted's desperate message looked like it was about to flicker out of existence, but it held fast with a newfound power and determination. The message upon it changed.

[are you hurt?]

_ (And i've made a few) _

\--

It took Mike a half second to realize the screen in front of him had changed, but eventually his sobs petered out to sniffs and wiping his eyes with his already pretty grimy arm. He tried wiping his arm on the grass at first, which turned out to be a massive mistake. With a yelp, Mike pulled back his arm as the grass just sorta gooped and bounced around it. No thank you, nope, no thanks, today's been weird enough already. He could deal with a gross arm. 

_ (It's alright, It's okay, it's alright, it's okay)  _

"A-are you kidding dude?" Mike couldn't help but laugh. "You almost die on me and you're asking ME if I'm OK?" He had to think about it a moment - sure, he was cut up and bruised and felt pretty drained, but he wasn't really hurt, exactly. "I'm kind of banged up from being in here? But not like, anything serious. Just like, bruises and junk."

Mike tried moving around, maybe getting more comfortable, but man was it a trial. In the end, he settled for kind of flopping on the ground next to Ted, now that the grass had remembered what acting like grass was like. "How are you though, dude? I had to dig you out of a tree. It was uh. Not. Not great."

He didn't really know if Ted could hear him all the way, but he was gonna act like he could. It looked like the repairs were going alright, finally? Mike finally took in the world around him, and was pretty stoked to see the world repairing itself, and not just the weird grass. He was gonna be stuck on that grass experience for a while. 

_ (You're not a demon, there's a reason)  _

This didn't mean he wasn't still terrified. But like he said long ago, he was tired of being scared. Especially here. Right now, he was gonna relish the fact that Ted looked like he was healing, after all those scares and brief moments of doomed relief. He'd be okay.

It's funny. Just a couple short assurances from Ted, and he felt a million pounds lighter.

\--

The world was quiet, yet loud in activity. It felt like the sound of crickets, but not the sound of crickets. Like the energy and excitement of it, somehow wrapped up in a technological metaphor inside of an idea. The concept of crickets. Crickets in theory. The noiseless noise-filled garden now dared to sprout flowers, dared to revive the fireflies that had been frozen dead on the ground. The garden was reviving itself, but it was still hurt, still scarred. Patches of grass were still grey. The sky was broken. It was harder to grow things now, but it would manage.

Ted's body was still unmoving, still dead, but at least it was now reacting to the world around it. His hair shifted as it got tangled in the 'grass' (because we all know thats not real grass), his clothes moved under the newfound gravity and gentle, noticable breeze. His hand still hummed with the sound of a computer fan, hes still thinking, still getting ready. He's coming, Mike, just give him some time.

_ (You behaved in that way) _

Mike's suspicions weren't necessarily incorrect: Ted was having trouble hearing him. His hearing drivers were all wonky from being connected to this Cyberspace, from his files being practically damaged beyond repair, only returning through mysterious virtue of will and unexpected spirit. 

The screen changed again, however Mike wouldn't be able to read it from his position on the floor, it was still above Ted's body.

[it's dark. i cant see yet, give me a moment. i'm almost there, i promise.]

_ (It's alright, it's okay, its alright, it's okay) _

[i'm coming.]

\--

Mike leaned up a little upon seeing the flicker of the hopeful little screen, trying to make out the words while also trying not to fall over. It was kinda hard - the world around him was healing, albeit slowly, but the return of gravity made moving thst much more difficult. He thought he'd been tired before - now, all he wanted to do was sleep. 

Once he'd parsed it out, he grinned, and patted Ted's hand. "I'd usually crack like a joke, or something? But I'm just...I'm really happy to hear that you're almost here, dude." Mike laughed, tiredly, and watched the sky brighten overhead. It was still messed up, but it wasn't straight up melting anymore. It wasn't falling apart.

Ted wasn't falling apart.

_ (I believe, yes I believe that you will see a better day) _

"Don't rush, though. Take your time, Ted, you gotta heal up and stuff." Mike stayed sitting up, even if he was leaning over pretty heavily. He didn't want to miss any other messages as Ted slowly, steadily crawled his way back to this weird little garden. 

Idly, Mike wondered if they could maybe plant some new flowers, or even trees in this scarred landscape. The flora was still scarred, and some of the trees had grey patches crawling up their trunks, but Mike could easily imagine a thriving garden among this weird little world. It'd take some work, and a lot of trial and error, but they could work together to grow something amazing. 

Maybe he could get some wisteria in here. He liked those. 

_ (It's alright, oh) _

_ \-- _

Growing gardens didn't quite compare to the feeling that Ted held in his chest, though, Mike wouldn't be aware of it. Or maybe he would be, favouring their newfound, interpersonal connection based on quantum entaglement and emotional growth. Maybe Mike would feel Ted's relief, his sudden calm, his victory lap. His energy as it slowly flowed back to him, as he forced it to return, through will and a few clever reworkings of his own code (will only gets you so far).

[i can feel your hand]

[not quite words.] 

Ted's words seemed almost exhausted, almost strained and confused. This was perhaps the most disjointed that Mike has ever seen Ted speak. But it was a sense of reassurance, that Ted was still his imperfect self, the questionably human machine that fretted over a scrape of orange soda, that really loves coin pushers, that wears 80s clothes, outdated for a futuristic supercomputer.

He's still Ted.

And Ted had vanished from where he had been laying on the floor.

_ (It's okay, oh) _

In an instant, the body had glitched out of existence, leaving a divit in the grass where he lay. The world didn't stop fixing itself, but seemed to be confused for half a moment. There, in the near distance, a few meteres away, was a small loading circle, hovering in the air. A few instants later, and the circle had vanished, leaving a small logo behind: two white letters that read 'HR', and four coloured bars, sitting neatly under the letters. That, too, passed, as a humanoid body rendered in, detail by detail.

Ted's wrist was still damaged from the plants. Ted's shattered eye was now fully blue, for it had bled.

But Ted's smile was not broken. His tears were not broken.

[Mike.]

\--

It's...weird, feeling a relief that isn't quite your own flowing over you like cool water. Mike didn't really have another word for it, or any kind of poetic way to describe it. It just was. Besides, it helped keep him somewhat calm as Ted sent a few last words, before blipping out, and re-appearing elsewhere. Mike still yelped and scooted back, but it was a quiet one. Sort of. 

_ (It's alright, oh)  _

The logo stuck out to Mike - hadn't the screen mentioned that earlier? - but it was almost immediately swept out of his mind as Mike scrambled to stand up, falling over his own feet and bouncing up just as quickly. Not too quickly, mind you, but he managed to get up without any more bruising or cuts. It didn't really matter either way. Ted might look a little worse for wear, but he wasn't broken in the slightest - he was Ted. He was standing, albeit still loading. He was okay! 

_ (And I believe, yes I believe that you will see a better day)  _

"Ted!" Mike choked out, before breaking into as much of a sprint as he could manage. He ended up doing a weird sort of hop and hobble, but it was a quick hobble. "Ted, holy shit, don't you dare fucking die on me again!"

\--

Not even before his feet had finished loading, he was running to close the distance between him and his host, his prodigy, his mentor, his best friend. It seems strange to be able to call him that. All things considered, Mike was his only friend, and Ted thinks thats rather special. To be able to make friends with a machine, and to have that machine be friends with you too? That's special.

What was also special was how it felt to have Ted really hug him. His arms were strong, and he gripped on tight to Mike as soon as he was close enough to Ted. His eyes sparkled with strange tears that he had never really cried before, as Mike noticed how his hug seemed weak. It shook a little as he cried, an unmistakeable smile across his face that he felt as it was buried into his shoulder. It felt weak, yes, and imperfect. It wasn't balanced out, it seemed quick, and panicked, and--

And unmistakeably human.

His red eye cried normal, clear tears, but his broken and blue eye leaked a neon blue, his throat was still wounded, his clothes still tousled-- but he was laughing, holding Mike. 

[I-- i was so scared. How-- How long have you b-been here, Mike--] He managed to choke out, before hugging him tighter, as Mike surely did the same.

They stood in silence, in the ever-recovering garden. From where Ted used to be laying, and from beneath their feet, careful, digital flowers grew, only emphasized by the emotion that Ted now felt. That Ted was now assured of.

It had been a dark and stormy night indeed when the evening began. But the storm has broken, the castle conquered. They completed their ultimate goal, they've beat the dungeon, saved the prince, slain the dragon.

  
  


Game over.

  
  


And the strange night sky above them shone anew, now Ted could hear the crickets of the garden that Mike only knew.

And Ted held him close. Safe.

They did it.

  
  


_ [It's alright.] _


	22. To Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike wakes up.  
Rich speaks.  
Jeremy enters.
> 
> Mike and Jeremy are reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gays sorry for the wait, i got my ass eated by college. if u like the fic remember to comment and share with ur friends uwu owo
> 
> we have two more chapters before the end!!!!!!

Consciousness didn't come easy for Mike. 

There were a few false starts. Flashes of his moms holding his hand, and sitting close. Nurses came and went. When he finally did come to for real, he could hear a soft him from the machines around him and the distant chatter of nurses and doctors discussing whatever the hell they usually talk about. The chair near his bed was empty, for the moment. 

Mike's head felt absolutely wrecked. To be fair, it kinda was, but it kinda felt like his head was about to either explode, or melt. Still not as bad as when Ted activated, to be super honest, but it was still hella unpleasant. Speaking of which, Ted didn't seem to be around - either he was still rebooting, or maybe needed more time to heal? Who knew. 

It took a couple slaps at a side table, but Mike eventually found his glasses and slid them on. He winced as he did so - he felt like he'd run a couple marathons in a row, and then flung himself off a cliff. Outwardly, he looked pretty OK, barring a couple bruises. Inside? Not to be dramatic, but Mike felt like he was dying.

\--

The room was left in a odd soup of silence, an extreme and stark contrast from the last 4 days. There was absolute stillness in this room, the blank walls and simple bedsheets had no obnoxious pattern, the tables had no colour, the light from the window was simple, and dust filled. Even the sounds were silent, the constant, rythmic beating of the heart monitor. Reliable, easy to ignore and tune out. The room was still, white and off-colour teal. Something Mike hasn't seen in at about a week was present, too.

Absolute silence, in an idle, human sort of way.  
No buzz of electricity behind his eyes.  
No voices in his head.  
No Ted.

But that was alright. Mike knew that Ted was alright. Maybe it had been a stress dream. Maybe just a hallucination, overactive imagination. Maybe it wasn't real at all. But Mike knew that Ted had been real. That he was okay, that he was resting too. And that Mike was, for now, alone in his mind.

How does that make him feel?

He wasn't alone in real life for too long, however, as something of a light, familiar, questioning grunt came from the bed beside him. A metallic shuffle as the curtain around the bed next to him was pulled back and-

"Michael? Aw shit, youre awake!"  
Richard Goranski, post-squip, just as he had left him.

\--

"Awake, but at what cost," Mike groaned, pulling himself into a somewhat seated position, while trying to handle the various wires and nodes attached to him delicately. He felt like his hands were only barely cooperating, but he got there. Eventually. "I - do you know how long I've been here, dude? I feel like a dried sponge."

Once Mike got comfortable, he took a sec to just...breathe. He felt sort of incomplete, in an odd way, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He knew Ted was recovering, so it wasn't that. The poor dude definitely needed some sort of rest after basically coming back from the dead, anyway. 

It was a bizarre sort of dream...place...thing? That he was maybe still in? But Mike pretty firmly believed it was as real as Ted was. His hands still ached a little from cuts and bruises that weren't there. Who knew what it really was, though.

Rather than get stuck in his head again, Mike rolled his shoulders and let out a sigh. Probably just felt weird being in the hospital, that's all. "Glad they roomed me with you though dude, I dunno how I'd feel waking up to some rando watching The View or something."

\--

Rich, too, adjusted himself as Mike rose back up from the dead, maneuvering his own injures way better than Mike was maneuvering his own. He's been here for a while now, and hes gotten used to it. He looks excited to finally have his friend back to talk to. "Dude, youve been out for like, 4 days! The nurses were all like 'it might be a light coma, Mr. Rich Goranski'. But like--thank god you're alright, am I right?"

He let out a short, tense chuckle. "Seriously man, you had me worried for a while there. I kinda thought you died-- but when it comes to Squips, worse stuff can happen. Hell, I know from personal experience." He chuckled again, slightly sadder this time. "But holy shit dude, I heard EVERYTHING from Jeremy! How you swooped in and started acting all brainwashed and then you pulled out the red and then your--" He pauses an instant. He doesn't quite like how the words feel in his mouth.

"--your squip appeared like a fuckin' JoJo stand, and you za wardo'd that dude so hard he EXPLODED!" Rich sounds like hes in awe of how SICK that must have been. "Everyone blacked out-- most were okay, but you and Jeremy were carted off to the hospital pretty quick. They contemplated putting Jeremy with me, but I guess my relative had more priority." He raised an eyebrow.

Hes still got the hoodie-- this time, its worn on his body properly, arms in the sleeves.

\--

It took a second for Mike to comprehend the barrage of excited friendship being hurled his way, but once he did, he offered up a pained grin. Jesus, 4 days? It felt like way shorter and way longer at the same time.

"Being, uh, rad took a lot out of me dude, I had to take a nap to make up for it. I'm glad everyone's OK - is, is Jeremy still here?" Mike was struggling a little to string the words together - his brain still felt like it was wrapped in wool and covered in dust, which kinda made sense considering. You know. The coma.

Mike held up his hands in a sort of mock surrender. "Sorry, dude, I feel like - like I'm still kinda clawing my way out of whatever the hell that dream was. Kinda need a minute to uh, process. Broski. Broseidon. Cousin? I don't remember what I told 'em, dude, but still."

Okay, first things first. Rich looked happier than he had in a long time. The jacket -

The jacket -

Rich looked great in it. Way more comfortable too. "Do you wanna keep the jacket?" Mike blurted out. Why was his jacket sending chills down his spine? "It uh, I, you look like you need something warm in this cold ass place."

\--

Once Mike started talking about how disoriented he was, Rich blinked quickly. "Aw shit, I'm sorry, i totally know how that feels. Like, your heads being smushed in a vice and then its let go and your brain is like 'hmm what just happened' and youre like 'man i thought you would know'. And yeah-- being totally sick is a very taxing effort, I should know, I've been totally sick for every single day of my life."

He giggles a little lispy giggle at his own semi-egotistical joke, before sighing-- and making a quick 'huh' sound as Mike blurted out. "Uhh-- but this is your jacket, chief. Its got all your patches on it--" He waggled the gay flag patch at Mike. "I'm not even gay. Man, I literally cannot imagine a time where you weren't wearing this. Are-- are you certain you want me to keep it?"

He sounds like... nervous about it. Michael's jacket, the strange forbidden fruit of the sweater family. Theres the cardigan, the zip up hoodie, and whatever the FUCK Michael's hoodie was. It was like a mysterious ancient artifact that Rich was almost convinced was some sort of power dampening weight for Michael. I mean, he took off the hoodie, got squipped and had an anime fight.

\--

Mike's head was sort of spinning? This was a lot to take in, and it was starting to hit him just how much he'd depended on Ted the past couple days for support and help. He'd managed before, right? Ish? So he could handle this.

"I - man, I don't know if you like, ever had any fucked up squip dreams? But Ted got hit with a - a weird virus by Jeremy's squip after the red started taking effect." Mike started, cradling his head on his hands. "It was fucked up, like, really fucked up. I - I dug Ted out of a tree? Thing?"

He was quiet for a few moments, just sort of staring at nothing. When he spoke again it was quiet, and tired. "And uh...yeah, I'll uh, be real, it needs a wash or three? But looking at it reminds me of the - the stuff that happened. And you look good in it, dude. Even if it's just like - a comfort thing for the hospital or whatever. I just don't think I'll uh. Wear it. Again." 

Truth be told, he kind of wanted to keep it. Or throw it away. Or burn it. Or frame it. Mike couldn't really tell you - it just made him extremely nervous to even look at, and he couldn't fathom really doing anything other than hiding it away in a closet. Better to give it to someone who could actually use it.

An impulse decision, sure. Mike was running on those a lot these days.

\--

Rich had begun to focus a little more attention on the sleeve of the hoodie, trying to think of a reason Mike wouldn't want his signature jacket back. That is, before he mentions the dreams. Rich's eyes snap up to look at Mike, before his head follows, his face focused in concern. He nodded slowly, with just a dash of horror, as he listened to Mike's tale of woe.

"Man I-- shit, you guys really did it, huh? And-- and uh- that, that tree thing! In your dreams! Uh-- its something called the Cyberspace, if I'm remembering correctly. Squips can... manipulate your dreams and make you see things and-- its all weird and symbolic and subconscious. That sounds like exactly what happened to you, dude."

Rich falls silent with Mike, blinking a little plainly at his bedsheets. To him, his quest was over, he was free. He felt pretty happy about himself and what was to come. But Mike looked... conflicted. Changed. Was Mike gonna be ok?

He looked back at Mike when he told him that he could keep it. "Oh-- uh, thanks dude!! That means a lot to me! It is crazy comfy, if im being entirely honest. I can see why you liked it so much."

\--

"Y-yeah. It just -" Mike gulped a little, audibly. "I uh, I took that second squip to make sure Ted would be okay and ever since then, red has just been...making me more and more uncomfortable. If I'm being like, real honest."

He laughed a little, and scratched his hand out of nervous habit. "Rich, it was - that cyberspace was so fucked. It was melting? And like, when I was trying to get Ted back online, I got to a weird menu? Ted was dead. Ted was -"

Okay, okay Mike. Keep it together. Breathe. Remember what Ted taught you. "And - and during the play? I, I got surrounded, and I somehow made Ted move? And I saw him fall, he got infected with something, and Hal was -"

Mike was having some trouble, and ended up having to take a break from pouring his heart out, if but for a moment. Rich was one of the only people he could talk to about this, so why was it so hard to get the words out?

"Sorry, dude. All this is just...making me feel sort of, weird, you know?"

\--

Rich smiled a little encouragingly, nodding as he waited for Mike to explain. Then, the instant that Mike began to explain, he found himself struggling to keep that smile on his face. His eyes grew wider in confusion, slight shock. "You-- you took a second-" Mike had continued about the colour red, Rich falling silent and listening with almost... fearful intent.

Yes, Rich was a little bit scared, now. Just a little bit. Mike's red eyes from a few days ago stared back at him in his memory, and now he knows why they were there, so strong, sure, calculated. So perfectly synced up. His throat twitched a little as he nodded shallowly at the Cyberspace description, he knows about that sorta thing-- He tilted his head at mention of Ted dying. He opens his mouth to speak, albeit, shakily, before closing it again as Mike spoke--

With even more shaking revelations. Mike controlled Ted, through a sync. Through a connection. Rich has been a squip user for years. He's got some nasty side effects he can show you, and probably will show you. But Mike is describing something he doesn't know about. Something kinda scary.

But its just Michael Mell.  
Its safe.

"No-- no, ah-- Yeah! No i totally get that. Take your time, man. You gotta let it out somewhere."

\--

Mike didn't notice Rich freezing up, or being extremely uncomfortable the moment he started to speak. He was a little busy resting his head in his hands, making himself breathe evenly. In for three, hold for three, out for three.

Calm. Even. Collected.

"It's - it's so much that I didn't even realize what was happening. On the way here I spouted some weird probability? That hasn't happened since then, thank God, but it - I don't -" 

The last few days, filled with adrenaline and fear and newfound friendship, felt like they were crashing down around him. And while he knew he had several people supporting him - even if one was resting, he had quite a few others - Mike felt alone. Or maybe, sort of detached. 

He'd. He'd changed a lot recently. 

"Hey uh. Rich. Am I...a bad person, for doing all this? I just - I just wanted to help everyone. But I feel like, like I'm not me. Anymore. Does that makes sense? Like, I just - I know I'm usually pretty goofy, and chill, and I try to be but...I dunno." Mike sighed, finally letting his ramble peter out. "It all feels really...real, now."

\--

Rich would be the first one to really meet the new Mike. He was the first one to speak to him face to face, after the tiny war, after the sci-fi battles. This was where Mike landed, in a hospital bed, changed in electric red, just like the boy next to him. Rich, in this moment, realized the change, the difference.

This was Mike. Not Michael. Mike.

Rich is trying to push aside the rising concern for what being Mike really meant for Michael, what kind of crazy cyborg side effects that had. Right now, he needs to support the human in him. The human he is. 

"Hey, dude, no. Of course not. You're the opposite of a bad person. Changing from who you were before doesn't make you a bad person, and focusing on yourself doesn't make you a bad person either. You don't have to be anything that anyone tells you to be. Trust me."

\--

"I - I trust you dude, believe me, you're one of the only people who knows how to handle this sort of stuff." Mike's voice got a little rougher, but he did his best to sit up and give at least a little bit of a calmer vibe out, wiping his eyes with the hospital gown sleeve and shooting Rich a somewhat wobbly grin.

"I've just gotta get over myself. You guys are safe, and that's what matters. After what you guys went through, I just gotta...get perspective." A quiet pause. "Or like, find a good therapist if I can."

After finding some stability over the last few days, Mike suddenly felt adrift at sea. He knew, logically, he shouldn't be so out of sorts, but it was hard as hell to put together the pieces again. "I feel like I need to be everyone's rock, dude. Like, someone to catch them when they fall or whatever. But I don't even feel like myself, how the hell am I going to catch someone? It's like - it's like I'm a whole new person."

"Like. The squip, Hal, won. Sorta. I changed."

\--

"Hey, hey no no, hey, come on. No. We both know thats a buncha bullshit, you dont just 'get over' this kind of thing. Literally, I would know. Literally, I know the most about this kind of thing. And I'm not about to keep my smartness to myself and watch your dumb ass suffer." He shuffles a bit on the bed, easily getting over his temporary paranoia.

"Look at yourself, numbnuts. You're not a rock, you're not a supercomputer, you're a human. Humans don't need to live to serve other people, that's called unethical slavery and was outlawed. You don't need to catch anyone, man. You just worry about yourself. Catch yourself."

Rich listened stoically to his worries of change.   
"...squips work on change. But I-- That son of a bitch had too much change, way too fast, and it all blew up in its face and you kicked his ass. Change isn't something bad or horrible. People change all the time. You can't worry about being someone who you aren't, you just are. I was worried for a long time that I wasn't being myself when I was all cool and stuff. Maybe that was the case. But that's just who I was at the time. And now, I've changed. 'M still good ol Richard 'Dick' Goranksi, burner of supercomputers."

\--

"It's - it's weird, dude, like, I don't feel -" Mike waved his hands, trying to find the right phrasing. "I've spent the last couple days relying so heavily on like, not being alone that, now that I am? I feel sort of...incomplete. And I don't know if that's a great thing. It's probably not."

"But uh...thank you. I think you're really cool for straight up going after your own squip like that. I'm glad thst we can like...actually talk, now." Mike smiled, a genuine this one this time. "Though, does this mean that I can call you a Dick?"

Mike was hoping that Rich would sort of...not notice how he was avoiding the issue. To be real honest, he wasn't sure what to think, even with the assurance of another flesh and blood person. How could he really focus on himself, when he barely knew who he really was?

\--

Rich felt melencholy. He felt... this felt so familiar to him. The quiet in his head in the spare hours of the morning as he lay in the yard, the fire raging above him, having escaped by the skin of his teeth (but not his real skin). How the stiff, unwatered grass was the softest thing in the world as the smell of burning hair filled his senses, his eyes watering as they stared up at the sparse stars. The silence was his favourite sound, in that desperate moment, and it still was.

"Silence isn't something bad, you know. It's nice having something to keep you company, but-- please remember to enjoy the quiet." He sounded a little more serious on this tone, a little less joking. It's a statement from experience.

He nods a little at the compliment, still a little wrapped up in his own feelings about his personal silence. "Yeah, yeah it-- it was the right thing to do, i... i guess. The parasitic bitch couldn't live without a human, and if you threaten to take away the human?" A limp, but knowing, chuckle.

"Actually, no, you cant call me dick? Please, its Dickolas."

\--

"Ah yes, Sir Dickolas the Brave." Mike laughed, a little warmer this time around. "I uh, thanks. I'll be um, real, before all this? Once Jeremy got his squip, I didn't really have anyone else to like, talk to, IRL. Silence was all I had, for like, a long time. I guess I gotta be like...comfortable with myself. Or something deep and cool sounding like that, I dunno."

Rich looked like he'd been remembering something terrible, and knowing what little Mike knew about that situation? It was awful."I - I can't imagine what awful shit you went through dude, but as long as we're pouring our hearts out here, I'm here for you, dude. Literally. I'm hooked up to machines and stuff, I can't move much." Mike wagged the cords and IV attached to him for emphasis, acting as much like a whacky inflatable waving tube man as a busted, fresh out of a coma teen can. Which wasn't much. 

When his ribs helpfully reminded him he was still recovering, though, he stopped and slumped over a bit. "I hope I'm not stuck in here long, though. This sucks."

\--

Chuckling a little more consciously at the new title he was given, he paid more attention to Mike as he began to speak again. "I was uncomfortable with who I was for years. I felt like I wasn't good enough or cool enough or brave enough, but-- you ain't me. Unless you're my long lost twin, seperated at birth. You-- were always so shameless in how you were. You just... existed, and that was enough. Now that its all over, don't try to let a pill, or lack thereof, change how you look at yourself."

He sighed. "It's okay. We both... both our stuff was pretty awful. I mean, I literally committed a crime of arson. That's..." He sighed a little harder. "But you, you tamed a Squip like a pokemon and ran headfirst into battle, dude. From what I learned about that little bastard in your head, he... seemed like a good one."

"If-- if it makes you feel any better about it, I'm sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I mean, being hit with Red has got to be pretty noble when you know whats coming."

Rich seems to be unaware of Ted's current status.

\--

It was kind of poetic, really. Two confused and wounded teens, admiring each other for perceived strengths they don't believe themselves to have. They were in the same hospital, same room, for just about the same reason.

But just about, doesn't mean they were the same. Mike was already kind of uncomfortable being complimented on being shameless for being himself - look how quick he'd given it up - but his blood really ran cold when Rich lamented Ted's sacrifice.

"R-rich, I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me after I say what I've got to say? Ted didn't - didn't die. I - he was gonna reset in that weird cyberspace thing, and I -" 

Deep breaths. It'll be OK. Sit up straight, calm yourself, and explain. It'll be fine.

"I dug him out and, carried him to this like. Clearing? Thing? And managed to get the - the menu thing to uh. Run a restore." Mike couldn't really look at Rich, at this point. "It didn't work at first but, it did, eventually. And he came back." 

The machines they both were hooked up to beeped softly, unaware of just how thick the tension was in the room. 

"So, Ted isn't...gone. He's recovering now, I think."

\--

Mike spoke his warning, and Rich couldn't help from sucking in a slight breath out of... shock. Fear irrational that Mike died on that stage, and that things were just beginning. But again, that suspicion was crushed, by himself, of course. It was ridiculous and not true, just a passing thought. 

Rich's face fell from remorse to concern, to having his mouth gently ajar, that same tense breath leaving his lungs about as quickly as it had come in: with sudden gentleness. He blinked a little, diverting his gaze from Mike towards Mike's hands. Dug him out? With those hands? You don't dig in the Cyberspace. 

"I--" Rich began, sucking in another breath through his teeth. "Well, I don't have enough emotional integrity to unpack all that, so we're gonna throw the whole suitcase away, and ill take your statement at face values: Ted is aaaaaa...live? Yes? Alive?" He nods a little, biting the corner of his upper lip. "I was never really good at the whole grief thing, honestly. I'm sorry if I'm blunt."

"But-- uh, dug? You dug in the Cyberspace?? The Cyberspace is black glass, how did you dig through glass?"

\--

Now it's Mike's turn to look incredibly confused. 

"Uh, yeah, he's alive, though he's kind of in recovery mode or whatever you wanna call it." Black glass? Maybe that's what the garden was turning into? Things were crumbling from the moment he got there, after all. 

"So uh, stay with me here but, I feel like this needs an explanation to clear things up? And it's kind of complicated. Sort of." Mike let out a sigh and slapped his cheeks a couple times to wake up a little. "So uh, before the play, I was having this like...nightmare? It was rough and weird and I ended up waking up at one point. And, well, kind of caught Ted singing?"

God, this next part was gonna sound bizarre, especially to Rich, but it was important. "He was really, really emotional about it. After the uh, hell of the past couple months it was super soothing. Kind of like...kind of like I had a big brother there, looking out for me. I don't really know how else to explain it."

Come on, Mike. Keep going. You're just making this feeling worse by stewing in it. You can sort out the weird tangle of guilt you're feeling later. He tried fixing his posture, a little, to calm himself. It helped a bit. It didn't make recounting this much easier, but it helped.  
"...soooo, when I fell back asleep, it was a garden. Like, a really full garden with olive trees and other stuff around it. It was really, really nice. Calming." Mike scratched his neck nervously. "It - it made me feel safe."

"That's where I went after I collapsed on stage. It was...different. The sky was melting, sort of? It'd been a sky before but this time, it showed what I think was circuits." He shrugged. "There might have been black glass underneath it all, the grass was like, black and sorta rubbery? And it all shattered really easily." 

Mike found himself drifting back to an echo of the panic, the longer he went on describing it. Time to wrap it up. "It - yeah. It was a garden, from what I think was a dream? After the fight, it was dying. Maybe reverting to that glass, I dunno." He quietly picked at a blanket thread. "So...yeah. Dug him out of a tree. It felt like a tree, at least."

\--

Now Mike's confusion was making RICH confused. Wait-- what? Jeez-- he needs to take half a moment here. He squeezes his eyes shut as if he is pushing back a headache, flexing his eyebrows and puffing out his cheeks a bit. 

Okay. Lets take this step by step, in this half a second that rich has to himself before listening to what Mike has to say. Firstly: He burnt his own squip alive. He's still not quite over that, honestly. Its not rather relevant, but its still worth mentioning. Secondly: Mike has a squip. And then he made friends with it. And stopped it from being evil. This dude, man, this DUDE. Of all people to be able to anime transform an evil supercomputer, he didnt know he could count on Michael Mell to be the one to do it. Thirdly: Mike had a jojo style stand fight and WON.

And now the manifestation of the dead and incomprehensible emotional space between a human and a Squip's awareness can change shape on its own.  
Holy shit. Okay. Sure. This might as well happen.

He listened closely to Mike, trying to pick up any comprehensible clues on the status and reality of the Cyberspace, especially considering what Mike had just implied. He nodded along to the statement about the nightmare: "--mhm, plenty of those..." he mumbled along.  
He blinked with weight and glanced away. "...di'nt know they sang by themselves..."

Rich exhaled a little at the big brother statement. "Yeah thats... thats about right. I mean, you're real damn lucky. You got a good one! AND an anime backstory, so like!" He settled back down from trying to cheer Mike up from this clear distress.

"I've... never experienced anything that intense in the Cyberspace. Then again, I haven't... been there very often. I mean-- I remember one time that, uh--" It was Rich's turn to overthink, just for a moment, remembering this mildly fond event in this new, betrayed context. "My Squip had grown a little rose garden. It wasn't anything crazy like a horror forest like yours, but I'm pretty sure it was for some metaphor about thorns and flowers and getting pricked or whatever." He shrugs a bit, shaking his head in slight confusion.

"But, uh-- that. Thats certainly something, Mike. Thousands of edgy video game devs would love to get ahold of that story. Make it bethesdas next greatest hit."

\--

"Ha, sorry dude. I know I just sort of info-dumped on you." Mike offered a tired smile as he settled back a little. "I dunno about Bethesda, though, I feel we've got more class than that."

At the mention of the rose garden, he winced, and then spent a moment riding out a wave of pain from his side. "Dude. I'm not like, the physical type?" He waved a hand like a wet noodle at his whole situation. "Obviously. But if they were human, I'd go for the kneecaps. No questions asked. Well. Maybe a couple questions."

"Plus, roses are overrated." He scoffed, grinning. Actually grinning, this time, sort of. It wasn't as tired. "They're not even that pretty!"

\--

Rich rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Yeah, infodumping is one way to put it. Mike, I totally get that this crazy stuff leaves you needing to lean on someone for support, but holy cow i think you just hit me with a TRUCK!" HE chuckles a bit tensely. "Yeah fuck bethesda."

he shrugs. "I appreciate the support anyways. If anyone was gonna be physical, it would be me. Thats why I did the big burny. The big. Uh. Big fire. Big roasty." Sigh. "...big toasty."

"UGH!!" He groans in agreement. "OH god yeah, her whole THING was on roses. 'oh Richard, the thorns of a rose are often so sharp-- oh dearest, progress can be fragile at times-- oh my dear--' Like?? Shut! the fuck up!"

\--  
"Sorry. It's - it's an uh, ongoing problem of mine. Kinda feel like you gotta get the info out quick or they uh. Won't listen, you know?" Mike said. "If - yeah. Sorry about that, dude. Kinda overloaded you."

"Who on earth says dearest, like seriously? She sounds like the mom from Coraline. Gross." Mike made an over dramatic gagging noise. "Glad she's gone, dude. And I'm really glad you're still here."

Wait. Shit.

"I mean, not glad you're still here in the hospital, that sucks a lot, I meant - shit, I meant, like alive?" Mike kept stumbling over his words in a desperate attempt to keep this conversation from going off a cliff. "Like, not - not glad you're hurt, shit dude, I'm sorry! I don't have a filter right now, apparently."

\--

Rich nodded vigourously at Mike's statement. "Yes-- YES! Exactly that, dude. Feels like you gotta shout and scream and shit to get someones attention, and then if they don't listen, you make them listen cause otherwise you're never gonna get those feelings out, and you'll be forced to face them with your evil red hologram mom clone."  
A pause.  
"Those experiences are not universal, are they."

"Seriously. I saw Coraline like, yesterday on my tablet, and i was like 'holy shit, its the motherfucker unlimited! The mother.... uh-- the fucker-- The FUCKING MOTHER unlimited!"

He shook his head a bit, confused as to why Mike was stumbling and apologizing, before he understood. "Hey man, talking to bitches is hard. Especially without that chip in your head. But its all okay, I know what you mean."

\--

"I mean," Mike said, "I don't think that, exactly, is universal? But having helped take down another piece of shit squip, yeah, they're motherfuckers."

He smiled, ruefully. "Even Ted can - could, was, be one? Fuck, what word am I thinking of? Anyway. I think I narrowly avoided getting an evil uncle as a squip, it didn't start off...great." Things could have gone real, real wrong in that classroom. They kinda did. 

"Anyway. Enough of that kinda stuff." Mike leaned forward, head resting on his hand. "What're your plans for when you bust out of here? I think you should join a band or something. You seem the punk type to me."

He grinned, trying to get across that he was gently teasing. He really meant it, too. Mike knew from personal experience that screaming at karaoke or something (or, more often, in his room alone, at 2am) that it worked wonders for working out stress. At the very least, it helped you ignore it for a while.

\--

"Evil uncle. An EVIL UNCLE? Holy fuckin shit, dude, evil keanu reeves techno uncle would kinda be badass if a) we didn't know how awful it is and b) if he wasn't an uncle. That just sounds really fuckin lopsided."

Rich looked like he was thinking for a little bit, furrowing his brows and tilting his head a little. "You know, I was always more partial to--" His eyes sparkled a little as he found he was able to have this realization. "--Vocaloid."

Just then, there was the sound of running footsteps, a stumble, someone speaking somewhat sternly to someone else, then quiet, yet speedy footsteps. Knockknockknockknockknockknockkn--  
The door opens despite the knocking, and Jeremy's round, acne-spotted (though it has healed remarkably) and bespectacled face peeks in through the crack in the door. The door is pushed all the way open by a sturdy, fatherly hand, owned by one Mr. Heere, bepantsed.

"Mike??"

\--

"Right? God, I got lucky. And hey, I like vocaloid too! Have you ever heard of -"

Mike was just about to launch into a, frankly, way too detailed rundown of his faves when the knocking set him jumping, knocking the machines attached to him a bit. "What the -"

Time froze. He couldn't breathe, for a brief, startling moment. 

"JEREMY!" He yelped, trying to get up and hug the shit out of his best friend, the one he'd gone through all this for. Unfortunately, Mike was still hooked up and ended up sort of sprawled into a propped up position. He had to have had the goofiest grin on his face. "Holy shit, you're okay! A-and Mr. Heere!"

Was he crying? He might've been. He didn't care.

"I'm - I'm so glad you're okay! And you're already walking around too! Are you feeling okay? How's your head? When did you get out? Mr. Heere, are you okay? Have you gone back to school? Any weird dreams?"

Mike had so many questions that just sort of spilled out of him. It felt a little like he was short circuiting, honestly, because he was so overcome with relief.

"God, sorry, dude, I probably look gross." Mike laughed, sniffling. "Probably sound gross, too. I'm just happy you're okay."

\--

Jeremy was already in the room the second he could fit between the door and the doorframe, scooting quickly past it before stumbling heavily into the room, and never quite recovering from that stumble until he was basically laying on Mike, hugging him so god damned tightly. "holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit--" DEEEEP inhale. It was an unstable one too, hes crying alright.

"You-- you're not in a coma anymore! Or-- or dead! Thats always-" wipes tears. "Thats always one hell of a plus, thats for certain. Oh my god, it was so-- crazy! It was incredible- YOU were-- Incredible!!" Hes having trouble getting the words out, but in doing so, proves hes still the lovable dipshit he was all along. Just... buried under expensive, stolen acne cream and fake adidas.

Shaky sniffle as he realizes hes probably crushing Mike, so he sits back up, wobbly. He shook his head. "No-- im good, im good, I got out like 2 days ago, it was a quick stay. I guess Squips have a clean deactivation--??" He shrugs in elated confusion, like he doesn't really care enough to know the answer. "No school yet, no-- wait, weird dreams? I might need to think on that one, maybe." He holds up a finger, whispering 'maybe.'

\--

Getting tumbled onto by a dorky doofus was enough to wind him in this state, and his ribs hurt like crazy. All of him did, as he hugged Jeremy back hard enough to snap him in half. It was absolutely, one hundred percent worth it. The pain, the trauma, everything.

"I just - I just woke up a little while ago, I'm sorry I slept through any visits." He grinned, as Jeremy leaned off of him a little. Mike kept a hand on his shoulder, since he looked like he was going to topple back over at any second. God, it really was him. 

"Did - I'm glad it deactivated okay, everyone was screaming and - a lot was going on." Mike laughed, wiping at his eyes with the back of an incredibly sore arm. "I'm glad you got out quick, too. I was - I didn't expect to be the one asleep for so long."

\--

"God no please jesus do NOT be sorry. If you're sorry then IM gonna be sorry and then youre gonna feel bad and IM gonna feel bad and then thats how we got here in the first place. So you better stop being sorry ASAP. Or i might just cry." Hes already crying, which he is aware of as he sputters a little bit.

"It was like-- it was scary, first off, but it was crazy. My Suqip was like, dissolving, and screaming, and I was like hell yeah cause we kicked its ass, and then i saw it grab Ted and i was like oh no and then i Blacked Out so i was like--" He cuts himself off.

"get it cause. cause i was blacked out."

\--

"I already feel bad, dude! I was so scared it wasn't gonna work, I just, let myself get caught! And I - I had to scare you, and I feel bad, and oh man I'm glad you're alright and please, please don't hate me for what I said." Oh boy, it's happening. The legendary two player crying feedback loop. Mike's pretty sure it's patented at this point.

Either way, he's ugly crying.

"You blacked out too? I think I blacked out right after you, Ted got infected, and - and I had to dig him out of a tree! Dude! It was nuts! Is Christine okay? And the others? I know they didn't have -"

He audibly stopped in his tracks, stuttering a little, and looked up sheepishly at Mr. Heere. "This uh. This probably sounds like we're making stuff up, huh."

\--

"WHY the fuck would I ever hate you dude, you risked your life to save me why would I ever hate you for that--" INHALE-- "youremyherodudeandhonestlyyourewaybraverandearnestandpowerfulthanicouldeverbeandilookuptoyoubecauseyouarentscaredtobewhoyouareand--" Top ten rappers Eminem was afraid to diss (while he was alive, at least.)

INHAAAAALE-- he clears his throat to try and get rid of a persistant whine. He makes a gross throaty sound as he tries to clear his gunked up airways, but to little effect. "Christines okay, I saw her post on Instagram yesterday about the play. She's confused yet elated by the power of improv!" He cheers a little bit with that wide toothy smile of his. He blinks, before looking over at Mr. Heere, whos taken to sitting in one of the chairs, making confused eye contact with Rich, before being called to attention. 

"Frankly, slugger, I, uh-- I'm trying to follow along, but the most I can guess is a DnD thing?"

\--

"I- dude, c'mon, breathe," Mike laughed, his head spinning. He couldn't help himself, he hugged Jeremy again as he kept on teari g up. "I'm - we gotta lot to talk about. Like, a lot a lot. A shit load. I'm - I'm not as great as you guys keep saying?"

Frankly, that was the part throwing him for a loop the most. He didn't even do much. He just...did what was right. That wasn't really all that special. "If you were in my position, dude, I know you would have done the same. I'm - I'm really proud of how you kicked its ass. You - you really stood up against him and trusted me! Even after I - I almost -"

His voice caught, and Mike instead focused on trying not to get snot all over Jeremy's jacket for a little while. It didn't end well for the jacket. He was honestly a little overloaded - this was a lot to take in, even if it was a good kind of overwhelming. 

A little while passed, with the sound of gentle crying and soft beeping filling the air. Mike eventually sniffed pretty loudly - he looked like a leaky tomato at this point, which wasn't the greatest look, but he didn't really care right now. "You know how I uh, promised to explain everything, Mr. Heere? I think we need to have that talk soon."

\--

"breathing is for people--" A deep inhale. "--who aren't crying--" Despite this statement, he, too, tries to catch his breath, however difficult that may be at the moment. He let himself get hugged, enjoying the contact. Jesus, it sucked being alone. it really really sucked.

"I was too scared to even disagree with the guy before you came in and helped out, give yourself some credit, please, or I'll have to do it for you and you know I'm horrible at most things-" He let Mike speak, before Mike cracked and began to cry into his jacket about being...

Well.  
Mind controlled.

Thats exactly what happened to him, even if it was for a good cause. Complete and utter conscious domination of the mind, and most can argue thats the most terrifying kind of brainwashing. Where youre sentient the whole time, hating every moment. Or at least, dreading it, in Mike's case.  
"of course I trusted you, man. I would have trusted you even if you-- ya know-- werent okay."

The silence is nice.

Meanwhile, Rich is whispering to Mr. Heere, contemplating if he should try to explain what a Squip is exactly, deciding that its probably best that the two boys talk to him instead. After all, it's their story. Mr. Heere spoke up. "I don't wanna rush it. These kinds of things-- take time to heal from. We don't have to talk about it right away."

\--

Mike was panicking, a little bit? Well, not panicking, exactly. Probably not panicking. He was a little caught between this weird need to spell out exactly what happened, right now, in excruciating detail, and...simply enjoying the fact that Jeremy was here. That he was okay. That Rich was okay. That everything was...okay.

Sure, he'd been in a coma - which, honestly still sounded so weird - but he hadn't exactly gotten rest. It wasn't a long nap, it was his body trying to help both him and Ted recover. It helped, sure, but Mike was still exhausted and sore. He was running on empty, literally and figuratively. He let his head fall back to Jeremy's shoulder, thankful for the support and unable to really do much else, right now. 

He didn't really have the energy to fake being okay, especially not after this crying jag. And maybe that was okay, in and of itself.

"I don't - I don't think I'm really okay, man." He whispered into Jeremy's shoulder, trying to even out his breathing out at least a little. "If I was, I wouldn't have taken one in the first place."

\--

No one heard Mike's whisper but Jeremy, and that was all the people who needed to hear. He adjusted his grip on Mike, shifting him so he was resting comfortably in the crook of his neck.

Jeremy, despite hating the thing, learned a lot from his Squip. Especially the afternoon before the play, where he was convinced to do something less than moral. Less than correct, but, woefully correct at the same time. Jeremy spoke with an even tone, like he was thinking about what he was saying deeply, pausing to change words of a monologue that was seared into his subconscious.

"We-- we are... human. There's not much that we can do to change that. Humans are-- tempted and... and hurting. Everyones like that inside. Even if you don't see it, J-- Michael. Mike." He shuffled a bit. "People can be scared into making decisions they don't want to take, tempted and hurt into it. Its okay to make those decisions. It isn't their fault. It isnt-- it isnt your fault. We're all just--"

sniffle.  
"-little pitiful things, yeah?"

\--

Mike let himself be moved, and almost laughed out of relief and shock at the motion. God he'd missed Jeremy. He missed being able to just...lean on him, out of comfort or boredom or just about anything. It felt like he'd gotten a part of himself back, as he rested.

It was nice.

The even tone of Jeremy's voice startled Mike a little - he knew that tone. He'd used it, Ted had taught him how to use it, and Rich knew that tone too. Every squip user probably did. Right now, with Jeremy earnestly reassuring him and gently explaining that it wasn't his fault - though he still felt like it was, to be honest - it was exactly what he needed. He could sort out why later. 

"The only pitiful thing was that emo jackass," Mike laughed, roughly and tiredly but still a real laugh. "Thanks, dude. I'm gonna be honest, I'm not sure that I believe it isn't my fault? Though I think I might need therapy or something."

He poked Jeremy right between the shoulder blades. "And so do you."

\--

As Mike spoke, Jeremy let out a breath, letting the strange tense, numbness in his chest dissipate. Its just words. It can't hurt you. Not when you use them to help other people. 

"Oh yeah. Certainly. See, the key difference is that you didn't have him in your brain. Monologuing. About evil things." He waggled his finger in the air. "THATS the key difference." He rested his hand on Mike's shoulder, wrapped around his back. 

A nod. "We definately need so much therapy. Even just some chatbots online, maybe. Y'ever hear about Replika? Its nuts. A chatbot designed to make your life easier by telling you what to do on your phone and setting a schedule for you."  
The eyeroll was audiable.

"Hey-- uh.. I'm-- im sorry if this is a super private question but-- Is Ted-- ya know-- uh.. no longer with us?"

\--

"I dunno about you, man, but after all this I'd prefer an in the flesh therapist, they're less likely to call me names." Mike grinned, laughing a little. He went to imitate Hal's voice as a joke but...he couldn't really bring himself to do it. The thought of the panic attack in the hallway still sent his heart racing, with Hal just looming over him. With everything looming over him. 

Plus, honestly? He didn't really feel comfortable with joking about not trusting computers, considering the fact that placing his trust in Ted is what ended up ultimately saving Jeremy. 

And himself.

Mike went quiet, for a moment, his mood noticeably more somber. "Yeah," he admitted, quietly. "There's - there's a lot behind it dude, but he's still kicking. He's in recovery mode right now, Hal fucked him up really badly."

\--

Jeremy froze up instantly, tense when Mike said 'yeah', becoming more so confused when he explained further that Ted was still kicking. Nodding slowly as he explained that he was in recovery mode. "I-- yeah, that... that makes sense. I guess thats their way of... healing themselves? You can't exactly go to the doctor if youre a hologram man."

A pause. "it's crazy to think that theres... an entire race-- species? of these super smart pill robots just hidden under everyones noses. If they can be like Ted, what-- what makes them so... so--" He cant quite find the word.

Another pause.  
"...who's Hal?"

(At some point, Mr. Heere had left the room.)

\--

"What do you mean, who's Hal?" Mike looked up at Jeremy, his confusion evident. "I thought you'd named it that? Though, things were super hectic and you kind of collapsed soon after so, I don't like, blame you for not remembering."

He shivered, and rubbed his face. "Sorry, man. It's - he - I don't know. Ted told me once that squips learn from experiences for the most part, and honestly, I don't think all of them are evil, at least not any more. Maybe their coding just makes it real, real easy to swerve into villainy."

He slumped forward a little. "It all kind of gives me a migraine, dude."

\--

"I..." He looked away, face frozen in thought. "I don't think i ever named it. It was always just-- The Squip. I didn't think you were supposed to name it. Maybe thats why it turned evil, didn't get named."

He listened closely to Mike. Ted. of course Ted was the one to teach him all about what its like being a machine. I mean, who better? Jeremy would be lying if he said the burning anger he felt on the stage, staring at Ted in disguise didn't still linger when he thought about him. He did it for a good reason, but... He still did it, you know? He bit his lip, picking off some dead skin.

"These things are sentient migranes, I mean, I totally get it."

\--

"I don't think it's normal to name it," Mike laughed a little. "Ted thought it was weird at first too. So did Rich. I just...didn't feel comfortable not calling them a name. Hell, they could have still turned out to be an asshole after that. I'm really lucky Ted didn't."

Mike studied Jeremy a little. "Are you okay, dude? You usually only pick at your lip like that when you're upset or nervous. Did I say something wrong?"

\--

"I mean, humans will pack bond with anything. All it takes is a little empathy and some psychologial tricks." That fact seems pre-rehearsed.

Upon Mike's mention, he looked up, stopping immediately. He felt the piece of skin in his mouth, trying not to think about the speck of blood in the corner of his lips. He can't lie to Michael. He never was good at lying to Michael, especially not new, upgraded Cyber Michael. He makes eye contact, searching Mike's eyes for blue tints. For red tints. (There were none.)

"I-- uh." A bit of a fidget.  
"I just think we're both gonna need to work on moving past this whole thing, ya know?"

\--

"I - yeah. Yeah. You're right." Mike couldn't help having to take another deep, steadying breath as Jeremy searched his eyes. He'd probably be dealing with that a lot from now on. At least from people who knew, anyway.

Mike wanted Jeremy to trust him, but he completely understood why he didn't. It didn't really occur to him that Jeremy would be mad at Ted, not him. Nervously, he glanced to the side, to find Jeremy's dad gone and Rich...being Rich. He felt kind of bad for ignoring him. 

"Do you know where your dad went?"

\--

Rich was simply doing what Rich Do. Which is stare at the ceiling pretending not to listen, but since there’s nothing on the ceiling and his arms are still in casts, he’s totally listening. Very closely. Probably taking loads of mental notes.

Jeremy sighed a little bit. “Uh— I’m— I’m sorry, Michael, I— I never— I’m so sorry for everything I did, I don’t think— I didn’t think I deserved to be helped or saved after everything I put you through— I’m so— I’m sorry—?” A half mumble, half ramble.

“Uh— my dad’s probably waiting in the hallway.”

\--

Mike breathed in deep, steadying himself. In for three, out for three. A tired grin spread across his face as he grabbed Jeremy up in a bear hug, which sorta kinda hurt? But it was worth it.

"Jeremy, I say this with all the care and respect and uh...friendship I can muster?" He began, laughing a little when his brain just absolutely refused to help him come up with wording the next part. "Shut up. You're fine. I don't regret what I did, and I'm just happy we're still friends, okay?"

Mike let Jeremy go and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Go find your dad, dude. Just promise to bring me a slush or something the next time you visit, yeah? I'm probably gonna be here another couple days."

\--

Jeremy was punched, as he smiled, rubbing the punched area lightly. His eyes were sparkling with relief and happiness. Mike was back. He was back. Everything could go back to normal— but better.

He clambered away from the bed, grunting a little, with the quick whisper of ‘no homo’. He stood and fixed himself up, noting the wet parts of his shirt and jacket. Eh. It’ll wash. He turned to look at Rich, who was looking back at him. Jeremy glanced between him and Mike. Rich picked up on it.

“Oh yeah, I’m totally cool now. Squip gone, squip donezo. Squip got vibe checked into hell, got nae naed. And I’m bisexual. Whats up, Kyle.”

Jeremy blinks, opens his mouth to speak, before shutting it again. He just nods with firmness, before pointedly turning away from a proud Rich. He heads for the door.  
“See you guys in a few days, I guess. I gotta— start explaining to my dad.”

\--

"Oh man, sorry about making your jacket gross, dude." Mike waved a little, settling into bed. "I hope it goes okay? I probably have my phone somewhere around here, text me if it gets weird."

He glanced over to Rich for a moment, then amped up his smile a couple watts. "I'm really glad you're okay, Kyle."

When Jeremy had left, Mike let out an exhausted sigh. "Please tell me this place has decent food, Rich. I need something more than like, weird jello to help cope with what just happened."

\--

The door gently clicked shut as Jeremy had finally left the hospital room, the silence finally returning to what felt like its rightful place in the room. The sunbeams still caught the dust, albeit in a minimally different position now. Rich sniffled idly, wriggling his nose in an attempt to scratch it without a hand. He sighed again as it went quiet again.

He paused before answering. "They do Uber Eats here. Its sick."

His idle smile and satisfaction sat in the dusty sunlight. Everything is okay now. Mike is safe, Jeremy is happy, and he's free. As far as he knows? The story is over. And as far as we know, we know the same.

"Want chicken nuggets?"

\--

Mike leaned back with a sigh, and laughed a little wetly. It took a moment for him to gather his bearings, but by the time he answered Rich, he had a genuine and cheesy grin. He looked exhausted, but hey. Can't win 'em all.

"God, yes. Plus all the fries in the place."


	23. To Tie Up Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike confesses.  
Jeremy explains.  
Mr. Heere listens.
> 
> The boys talk, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SECOND TO LAST SECOND TO LAST

"Okay. Okay-- Okay."

The living room of the Heere household was the cleanest its been in about a year. Which is to say, really clean. While Jeremy and Michael were in the hospital, he had really put the elbow grease into fixing up the joint. Mopped floors, recycled cardboard, he even donated some of the unused clothes (including a discarded Eminem shirt). 

Now, Mr. Heere and the other two boys sat somewhat relaxed in the living room. Mr. Heere had a mug of some pretty strong coffee, half as a precaution and half as a joke ("If this story is as crazy as you say, I'm gonna need something to keep me conscious!"). Mr Heere was trying his best to keep an open mind, but sometimes... its hard to understand the youth of today.

"--You both took a supercomputer pill, and Jeremy's turned out to be evil, but yours wasn't."

\--

Mike had a cup of tea gripped in his hands. It was chai, strong and calming and a warm reminder to stay in the present. He was still pretty tired and worn out, but he'd felt better the moment he'd hit the fresh air outside of the hospital - with the help of an arm slung over a nervously laughing Jeremy. 

Nothing like a while of being confined to a bed to make you really appreciate the questionably breathable New Jersey air.

"I'm - yeah. Sort of?" Mike stared into his tea. "At first it was kind of like, a copy of Jeremy's, personality and everything. I know it was a dumb decision but, I had to do something, you know?"

He looked up, a nervous smile on his face. "After I had a panic attack, he changed his objective - which, I don't think he'd been told to do? And that, well, kinda sorta started the whole de-eviling process. Thing."

\--

Jeremy had a mug of hot chocolate. Poorly made hot chocolate. So poorly made, in fact, that he had simply set it aside on the coffee table. He'll try again in a bit. This time, he wont use water. Eugh. Who uses water in hot chocolate? Maybe if he melts chocolate chips into the milk...

He had one of his legs slung over Mike's lap, as he scooted a bit to prop himself upwards. He was gestureing intensely, still trying to get his dad to understand. "It was! A copy! But then it wasn't! The uh-- the data inside clearly had very uh- very different paths of evolution and development: I was like 'hm okay this sounds like a good idea', and Mike was all: 'rage.... rage against the dying of the light..... fuck cops'"

Mr. Heere chuckled and nodded barely at the reference to the classic piece of poetry, and the use of a swear word-- two things that he definately understood. Everything else was a struggle to grasp.

"So these computers in your head...s, ah-- were trying to do something evil? Which eventually landed you both in the hospital. Michael was able to... befriend it? I mean, I knew you were one hell of a friend to Jeremy, but to a robot?" He's still in disbelief as he smiles and shakes his head, nervously taking a sip.

\--

"You gotta understand, these - squips are like...blank slates. Sort of." Mike leaned forward a little himself, setting the chai down and running his hands through his messy hair. "It's like there's something deep in there that can go sideways real quick. It's not that they can't do empathy but it's like, they have a different way of viewing it. Like it's too logical, to the point where it's illogical. You know?"

Mike realized with a start how he sounded and tried to walk it back a little, slouching a little in his seat and sighing. "I just treated mine like I treated Jeremy. Like a friend. The rest was on Ted to like...be a decent dude. And he was."

\--

"You-- You're supposed to give them an objective! And then through their quantum thinking stuff, they figure out th ebest way to accomplish that objective. Like Mike said, though, computers are just the weirdest at working with empathy, i-- i guess, to say the least. Its like-- you give a computer the goal to win at chess, so it figures out that it can put the piece super far away from the board and crash the game, therefore not losing."

Mr. Heere listened closely to Mike's empathetic explanation. "I think that, as long as you act out of kindness and good intent, you can't do any wrong. I can't imagine how scary it was for you boys. And-- Jeremy, you said it was a robot pill thing earlier, when you were upset with me-- and that was the truth. I--I mean, I hope you understand why i didn't exactly..." 

He pauses for a second, thinking.  
"--Exactly believe it, ya know?"

Jeremy nods a little, glancing away. "I-I'm sorry for being so rude to you earlier. I know you were just trying to look out for me. It-- uh... It told me to be upset with you. I was all... wrapped up in listening."

\--

"They can be like, real persuasive." Mike was quiet a moment, letting the two work their feelings through in the silence, though he did give Jeremy a friendly leg slap and a supportive thumbs up. "It doesn't help when your objective is like...social status related? I think? Because that stuff is so hard to deal with normally, anyway."

This was, no lie, kind of an awkward conversation to have, especially since he technically still had his squip. He wasn't like, the most comfortable with the way they talked about Ted, especially since Ted didn't exactly stick to a set amount of behaviors like a regular computer, but it wasn't something he could really explain super simply. 

[I know you're still healing, dude, but it'd be so much easier if I could just have you guys meet, somehow.] He thought, a little wistfully. Out loud, he did the world's most awkward cough and leaned a little onto Jeremy. "So uh...do you believe us? Or are you still kinda on the fence?"

\--

"Oh yeah-- yea yea yeah you do NOT wanna give one of those little buggers something to do with social stuff. Like, the temptation is riiiight there, and then you're like 'okay cool i wanna be popular' and then its like 'sounds great, im gonna-- infest everyone else so then you have to be popular haha also im evil now' and youre like 'nooooo', ya know?"

Mr. Heere nods as if he knows. He does not.   
Though, when Jeremy mentioned something about becoming popular because of this device... He glances away for a moment, brows furrowed. He adjusts his grip on his mug.

Mike's head was without Ted's immediate presence, which probably threw him off. Instead, the idle humming of the two supercomputer pills rumbled in his skull, and a feeling of apology washed over him. Sorry dude. Homeboy's still in pain town.

"I mean, uh... I don't think i can NOT believe you guys. I mean, I'm still gonna feel... confused and not... understand what in the world is going on, but... yeah. I believe you."

\--

[No need to apologize for anything, you're still healing. Sorry if I woke you up or something.] Out loud, Mike gave a thoughtful hum, and sank further into the couch. "Yeah. It's like hey! Here's a really manipulative speech about how we're gonna unite everyone! Gonna leave out how exactly we're gonna get there or how it's gonna feel, though."

Mike didn't really know how to say what came next, but he gave it a go anyway. "I'm...I'm sorry if I seemed really uh, cagey? When I came over?" he began, awkwardly stumbling over the words. "Ted and I were working really hard to stop the play and uh...he suggested coming over here. To help us both. And um, I wasn't real open on the details, but you still let me cry all over you. So...sorry, Dad. And thanks."

He does not notice what he's called Mr. Heere. Mike's a little too preoccupied with looking anywhere but at Jeremy's dad.

\--

Mr. Heere sucks a breath in through his teeth at the mention of horribly manipulative tactics. "Thats horrible. I cant... imagine what it'd be like if that was like... in your head. Jeez, i-- i thought teens had to deal with like.. prom and makeup and kissing girls and stuff. Nothing as... cyber-weird-junk as this. I'm... im sorry, boys. I wasn't there to help. And I-- I mean, I've watched the matrix a few times. Matrix 2 was... weird."

Mr. Heere is thinking hard about something, and Jeremy's noticed. He's about to open his mouth to speak when-- Mike speaks first.  
He looks up, stunned a little. "Dad?"

Jeremy looks over to Mike too, eyebrows raised. "Dad?"

\--

Mike let out a noise akin to what a deflating accordion would sound like if it was thrown off a cliff, and then run over by a truck. Then set on fire.

"I - uh, listen, uh - sorry, I'll um. I'm -" he stuttered, scooting away from Jeremy and standing up. He wobbled a little but held firm - as much as a panicking teenager can, anyway. "I'll uh, go, sorry. Bad timing. Bad timing? Sorry."

His face is the exact same shade of red as that flaming accordion, smoldering after being crushed by a semi. Mike kind of felt like it, too.

\--

Jeremy and Mr. Heere's faces fell at the exact same time. Theres that family resemblance! 

"No no, its alright, Michael!! No no, its not like that at all. You're here to talk about your feelings. And-- If you want to... see me as a father figure, then im honoured! I just havent been a very... good one as of late, but I'm... im trying my best." He smiles in a way that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

\--

Mike flopped back down onto the couch almost bonelessly at the twin concerned faces staring back at him, and rubbed his arm a little awkwardly. "Just, well, you're - you're kind of the closest thing I've got to one, you know? Especially since I've known you since I was little. So uh, it kind of...slipped out. Almost slipped out before the play too." A small smile crossed his face, aimed at Mr. H - at his sort of kind of dad? - and he let himself slump over a little, letting out a relieved sort of wheeze. The wheeze of a perfectly not-on-fire accordion. "God, I wish that had happened way less awkwardly though."

He was still a bright beet red but laughed a little, punching Jeremy in the shoulder. "Besides, my player one is like...basically my brother. Maybe with better fashion sense."

\--

Mr. Heere looked... very surprised. And VERY thankful, too. That despite all his unfortunate shortcomings, he was still able to be a father, even in the eyes of a child that didn't belong to him. Seems like hes gonna have to REALLY start wearing the pants around here! Hes got two kids to take care of!

Jeremy was punched, as he flailed his arm a little in retaliation, adjusting his glasses to make sure they wouldn't fall off. He giggled sheepishly, before pausing. "Player one? Nah- wait, no, you're always player one? And also-- shut up. I do NOT have better fashion sense."

\--

Mike laughed, a faint rasp behind the sound, and with a smirk he ended up draping himself across the couch, including Jeremy. He had the smuggest, most shit-eating grin on his face when he looked back at him. "Well, if I'm player one, I'm sure you don't mind me hogging the couch, right?"

\--

Jeremy squawked, tumbling over as he became a boy-pillow. "Aw jesus CHRIST, you're heavy dude, I thought you took a supercomputer, not like-- 80 BRICKS." Nonetheless, he giggled and tried to wriggle Mike's torso off of him, clearly not putting enough effort into it.

Mr. Heere smiled proudly as he watched the two get along again-- but the smile was short-lived. He glanced away, before standing up and putting his coffee cup on the coffee table. "Hang on, I wanna see if i can find something. I was cleaning up and I thought I saw something... familiar."

\--

"Oh no, my limbs, they're weak," Mike wailed dramatically, doing an exaggerated swoon and going limp. "I fear I shall never move again. I knew I shouldn't have had those bricks for breakfast."

Mike paused his dramatics to give Jeremy's dad a curious look. "Mr. - uh, what do you mean by familiar, Daa-aad?"

Mike said it like he'd never heard the word before and was still trying to figure out the pronunciation. He sank a little, still draped across the couch. "Oh my God why am I like this," he muttered, draping an arm over his eyes.

\--

"The fuckin' bricks, dude. They get you every time. The gravel and crunchy texture is just... too..." He watches his dad get up and leave, trailing off. "Yeah, what do you mean by fffffamiliar." He gave Mike a bewildered look, before rolling his eyes. "Are you sure you didn't have dumbass-o's for breakfast, dipshitticus?"

Mr. Heere returned. He was holding what looked like a tabloid-- a REALLY old one too. About 15 years old by the looks of it. Its from... 2004? He's flipping through, scanning the pages quickly. Jeremy sits up from being crushed, watching his dad curiously. "ddddid you just grab some hold reading material? Cause like, no offence dad, but rude, we have a guest-"

Mr. Heere smiles idly at the joke, his attention on the magazine-- Before he points at the page.

"Boys, cmere."

\--

"Excuse you, Mr. Dumbass Supremo, but I'm still figuring stuff out." Mike bonelessly rolled off Jeremy, but not without a couple finger guns as he went sailing over the edge of the couch. He lay there on the floor a moment, contemplating his life choices, before gradually standing up and dusting himself off. "Also, if you keep roasting me, I'm making you carry my eighty brick ass around."

He stepped over to the tabloid, and leaned close. God, this thing was old.

\--

The thing that Mr. Heere was looking at was a full-page advert. It certainly looked like it was from the early 2000s, bright colours and blocky text, cartoony effects too. But what was on the page was... eerily familiar. The ad read:

NEW FROM HASHIMOTO INDUSTRIES: THE SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR:   
THE SQUIP !  
With all new SUPERCOMPUTER technology, you can have a CUSTOM, 3D personal assistant inside your very own mind!  
-Fix up your schedule!  
-Fix up your skills!  
-Fix up your social life!

Starting at 300$, you too can be part of the newest techno-craze!  
Jeremy was the first to speak.  
"Holy shit."

\--

Mike's a little stunned. He doesn't really know what to say, but eventually, he leans back a little. "It looks like it was made with clip art," he says, bewildered. "Also uh. Seconded. Holy shit. I'd never heard of it before all this went down."

\--

Mr. Heere brought the magazine closer to his face to inspect it. "Everything was made with clip-art in 2004, Michael. It was 2004." He mumbled, squinting. "Theres a fax number. I haven't had to use a fax number in years. This really is old, then."

"So if it was around in 2004, and like, we both know it was super evil. Not to sound super pessimistic or anything, but there are certainly some poor dudes who didn't have access to MDR. If it existed in 2004, then why isn't the earth in some post-apocalyptic dystopian state?"

\--

"That logo looks familiar too..." Mike was deep in thought, almost talking to himself. "And like, they aren't intrinsically evil but, 2004? The tech couldn't have been all that great. Maybe something...went haywire?"

He looked over at Jeremy. "You hadn't heard about it before Rich, yeah? I feel like maybe we got like. A relaunch. Or something."

\--

Mr. Heere looked between the two, before looking back at the paper. "That's one hell of a relaunch, if thats the case. I mean, two freaked out teens and threats of world domination probably isn't the best press coverage."

Jeremy thought for a moment. "Unless they dont want press coverage. Think about it-- if this tech was so public in 2004, then why did it go quiet. And yeah, I only heard about this supposed 'best in supercomputer tech' or whatever through THE most suspicious word of mouth EVER."

\--

"Maybe that was it? People are like, suckers for secrets. Especially if it's a cool secret." Mike sat down and propped his head in his hands, trying to process everything. "I wonder if there's any like, adults with a squip. Or if it's just us weirdos getting them at shoe stores."

\--

"Dude, remember the guy at payless? Theres no WAY that dude wasn't squipped to hell and back!! Then again, no squip would probably let him have sideburns like that and be out in public..."

Mr. Heere was still somewhat stunned, still looking at the advert. This was a solid piece of tangible evidence. It was real and true proof that what happened, was real. Its kinda throwing him off a little.

\--

"When I got the second squip, it was...kinda terrifying, dude, honestly," Mike said, shuddering. "Dude had like...a blue overlay. It was a puppet master type situation. Kind of a nightmare in blue."

His eyes went wide. "Oh God, he's - maybe he's got a first generation squip? Is that what happened to those people?"

\--

"Theres a reason no one remembers this..." Mr. Heere mumbled. He sounded pretty shaken up, but hes taking a few deep breaths. Come on! Lets be a rational adult now! Crazy potential world domination schemes and mind control conspiracies are the least of his worries right now. Okay. Not really, but he's gotta take care of these boys first and foremost. It's what a dad would do.

He closed up the magazine, nodding once. "Well, If you two would pardon my french, this stuff seems a little, ah-- fricked up. I don't wanna seem all... weird about it, but I don't really wanna talk about this right now." He exhales a little bit, standing up and putting the magazine on the chair. The cover even had an allusion to the giant ad-- a little grey pill and 'upgrade your life on pg 23'.

"I'm gonna order us some pizza. What do you boys want. On the pizza."

\--

Mike almost, almost tries to reassure Jeremy's dad, but with his exhaustion and Jeremy's dads nervousness it didn't seem like a super good idea to start sounding like a squip. Instead, he kind of deflated back in the couch, before offering up a tired grin to the two others.

"I want like. All the pepperoni."

\--

"I second the pepperoni statement. Just-- the cured meats. Just so many cured meats, dad. We can't save the world without the meats."

Mr. Heere chuckled nervously. "How's about we start with saving your stomachs. And then maybe we can discuss saving your mental state! With therapy! You know, I've started seeing a therapist myself, she's super nice, and its really been helping me out-- I'll see if i can get you on her schedule."

Jeremy's eyebrows shot up, as he glanced to Mike in slight disbelief. He nodded, mouthing 'wow!'. Mr. Heere could be heard ordering the pizza in the now-clean kitchen.

\--

"Therapy seems...like a good idea," Mike stuttered, and he couldn't help but laugh a little as the cured meats were being summoned. "This is weird, right? I think this is the most freaked out I've seen your dad, and that's saying something."

"And that magazine...man something is weird, here. Going on. Words." Mike was becoming one with the couch at this point, an arm draped over his face once more. "I just want pizza right now, though. We can go all shaggy and scooby on this later."

\--

"I mean-- Mike, theres like, a reason i didnt tell him about the squip sooner. You know how it was-- it was like... weird. And now i guess we all gotta deal with what happened and stuff."

Jeremy leans back on the couch. "You know, we-- we're just teens. We don't have to... fight off the apocalypse. I just-- I kinda wanna pass highschool first? I don't wanna sound selfish or anything, but the world hasn't imploded yet, and this stuffs been underground since 2004..."

\--

Mike let himself kind of slump onto Jeremy's shoulder, eyes closed. "I wanna get through high school too, dude...but I also kinda wanna make sure nobody else has to go through what we did, you know?"

He sighed. "If nothing else, I wanna make sure I know everything about what I've got in my head. And what you have in yours, even if it got blitzed by rank old Dew."

\--

Jeremy snorts so loud at the phrase 'blitzed by rank old Dew'. "That was the UGLIEST way you could have EVER described deactivating my squip. Like, the UGLIEST way. Perfect execution, Mike. 10/10 landing."

"But-- yeah. I-- i guess that makes sense. Just-- dont go all gung-ho trying to save the world to the point that you forget how to be a regular ol teen. I was so scared i lost you before, and i wanna make sure you dont like-- do anything super stupid."

\--

Mike cracks open an eye and just kinda studies Jeremy for a moment. Then, with an extremely dramatic sigh, he wrestles Jeremy into a noogie hold and proceeds to royally mess up his hair.

"I was afraid I'd lost you too, dude. But uh...thanks." A wide smile bloomed across Mike's face - sappy, but genuine. "As long as I have you around to help me like, balance that shit out, I feel like I can do anything."

He then proceeded to noogie Jeremy again. Gotta keep a balance, after all.

\--

Jeremy smiles down at him as he stares, a warm little smirk before hes wrenched into the grip. His only reply is a looong sigh, with a punctuating 'fuck' at the end. But its all in good spirit, of course.

He took Mike's hand off his head, idly holding it back from fucking up his hair any more. "wh-- aww, Mike, that's like, almost sweet of you--" He said sarcastically, before getting sent directly to the noogie realm. Fuckin hell.

Mr. Heere came back in, holding the phone still. "do you boys want cheesy bread?" he whispered.

\--

Mike, Lord King of the Noogie Circle of Hell, looks up from basically suplexing Jeremy. "That sounds great!" he says, cheerily, before gesturing at the back of the struggling Jeremy. "Is it cool with you if I send Jeremy to Noogie Hell?"

Despite the shock of the magazine ad, and the recent stress, goofing around with Jeremy on his couch felt freakin' fantastic. It felt normal. It was comforting as all hell, even if the couch was slightly busted.

\--

Jeremy wriggled in fake agony, crying out in a limp protest. Mr. Heere was offput by the situation, mostly because he was still on the phone with Dominos,a nd he didn't want to be rude or set a bad example. He nods to the cheesy bread request, before quickly shouting "Send him to noogie helle for me, Michael."

"Noooooo-- Father don't betray meeeeeeee-" He wailed poorly, his wiggles slowly dying down as he accepted his tragic fate. Jeremy Heere. Died to noogie.

\--

Mike gives something of a goofy salute, before flopping back and giving Jeremy one last (severe) noogie. "I've decided, I'm holding back on the final blow," he says airily, waving a hand in the air dramatically. "You may not know when. You may not know how. Someday, though...a noogie will land when you least expect it."

Mike drops the act and grins, letting Jeremy fall out of his grip. "Besides, watching you freak out in anticipation will be way funnier than the limp fish impression."

\--

Jeremy sprawls back on the couch, leaning his head comically away from Mike's devastating noogie weapons. He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Smartass, did you forget who dealt with a super smart computer guy looming over me for like, two months? I could totally remove all satisfaction from any possible noogie you could ever give to me."

\--

Mike raises a brow, making a show of blowing on his hands like they're smoking guns, and cleaning them on his pretty rumpled shirt. "Oh? I've spent a while with a computer guy myself. Try me."

\--

Jeremy grimaced in a 'are you sure about that' way, tilting his head a little bit and humming in thought. "Okay, but yours was for like. A week. And yours was really cool and super nice. You cant compare him to mine. Mine was a huge dickhead."

\--

Mike let's out a pretty audible oof that he tries, and fails, to conceal. "Yeeeah that's fair. Glad he's gone. I mean, I said that before, but. Still."

The mood in the room is kinda dropping down, so Mike slaps Jeremy's leg with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, dude. Didn't mean to bring the mood down." He pauses. "You underestimate my power, though. My noogie power is stronger than any squip could hope to be."

Jeremy's only reaction is just a loud, blunt, automatic "ow" to the leg slap. Its VERY funny and VERY sudden and VERY good comedic relief. "Man-- would it be possible to noogie a Squip??? Now im like... Actually thinking about it. How would that... work."

\--

"Well, a squip could probably take the driver's seat for the host, and you could noogie them then?" Mike offers, laughing a bit as he stretches out. "I kinda let Ted control an arm or two when we did arcade stuff, so I mean, you just gotta be prepared for them to noogie back."

\--

"Thats a terrifying notion. A perfectly calculated, cyberpunk, flesh puppet noogie. The power. The accuracy. Its a nightmare come true." He jokingly stares traumatized at the carpet.

\--

"...you okay there, Jeremy?" Mike asked, following his gaze to the carpet. There was some lint, and what looked like a soda stain, but it was honestly the cleanest Mike had ever seen it. "Kinda feeling like you might not be."

\--

He perks up a little bit, making a lgiht 'hm??' sound as he looks back at Michael. "No, no, I'm-- it was a joke. Its okay, i-- i was just joking." He leans back in the couch seat, trying to hear his dad come back into the room-- but he wasnt back yet. "More like-- are you okay?"

\--

Mike startles a little. "Yeah! Totally fine! Super rad!" He laughs a little nervously and moves to awkwardly scratch his neck. "...sorry. Just uh...little too aware of everything right now, if that makes sense? Kinda hard to turn that off."

\--

"Yeah. Its kinda hard to be... anxious. But like-- hey! Ive lived with that anxiety for like, forever, so!"

\--

"That's uh, that's fair!" Mike slumps dramatically onto Jeremy's shoulder, holding his arm up in a fake swoon. "I promise to not send you to noogie hell if you help me learn how to handle all this, dude."

\--

He awkwardly moved his shoulder to wrap his arm around the swooning Mike. "Sounds like a fair deal." With the other hand, he barely wrenches a handshake offer.

\--

Mike kinda swings and misses with a noodle arm a couple times before finally slapping into a handshake. "Thanks. Means a lot. Dork."

\--

He shakes the hand quickly-- before pulling him into a half tackle!! Gotem!!

So as the boys kept up their banter, god its been a while since theyve had that, we see that Mr. Heere was no longer in the kitchen, and neither was the home phone.  
Mr. Heere slips up the stairs, the wood creaking lightly, the home phone in his bathrobe pocket.  
In his room, he reaches up towards a box in his dresser. Hes got a cautious expression about him, biting the inside of his cheek.  
A dusty, dry, cracked box bounced as it was half-tossed onto the bed. He opened it determinedly, pulling out old participation trophies and books and photo albums...  
Until he found a yearbook.  
A middle school yearbook, with dated decor.  
He flips through it, focused, he swears that hes seen this...  
And he finds what hes looking for.  
An entry, a young adult in what was maybe a spiffy outfit in the time. Fashionable, you could possibly say. With a proud smile. A blue gleam in his eye.  
Weve already met this person that Mr. Heere is staring at, is now trying to remember the phone number for.  
A familiar face.  
The scary stockboy.  
"Yes-- uh-- is, uh... is Mr... is this still the right number?"  
A pause.  
"...can i ask you a few questions?"


	24. To Take A Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike sits outside a party.  
Ted sits with him.
> 
> Mike and Ted are okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is fellas. the last chapter  
we hope you enjoyed our fic  
damn son this one made me feel i will not lie

December 28th. It was a little bit later than you would expect. People were scrambling to fix up their lives and their gifts and the last few bits of homework before the winter break, it was the date that worked the best.

Jakes Annual Holiday Hoedown, as the snapchat story was called, had been temporarily relocated to Jeremys house due to what everyone's decided to call 'zoning issues.'  
The party inside was loud, and fun. Brooke was off to one side, aggresively trying to out-snap jenna, as Chloe held up her phone as Brooke posed. Jenna was across the room, using a pen stylus to draw atop her own picture.

Rich was sitting at a macbook, the aux cord plugged into a set of loudspeakers, as jake suggested queueing up 7 copies of Whats New Pussycat. Christine keeps writing various musical numbers on the suggestions sheet. Half of them are already lined up.  
It was fun. And slowly, it became louder. About 9 pm, the deep blue of the early night sky was being interrupted by light snow flurries, a few days too late for a white christmas. The windows buzzed with the intensity of the music, which were classic crowdpleasing songs. Tounge Tied, I Dont Care...  
And we all know that one particular person isnt very good with loud parties.  
But the bathroom is only occupied by a brittle, plastic, light up santa lawn decoration in the tub.  
So on the porch, we see the front door crack open.

\--

Mike shivers a little, blowing warm air into his hands to try and warm them up a little. He looks a little different - for one, there's not a speck of red on him. Instead, he wears a bright yellow jacket and startlingly blue shirt, a combo he never would have thought of a few months ago, but one he loves now. A bright smiling face on his chest completes the picture, though it does make him look like even more of a dork.

Not like he could ever really escape that, anyway. It was part of him, just like his cheesy grin as he made his way across the slightly ice covered porch. Mike does almost careen into the snow covered bushes a few times, but he (sort of) manages to gracefully fall to his seat on the steps without much fuss.

[Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with them, but I can only take so much terrible music, you know?] Mike leans back on his hands with a content sigh, letting the snow settle onto him. [Plus, Rich really knows how to scream. Glad he's having fun, though.]

\--

[Oh, yeah. Definitely. I mean, theres only so much you can take.]

Next to him, Ted appears, leaning back with his elbows on a higher step. His legs are sprawled out down the stairs, crossed at the ankles. 

And Ted looks like hes okay.   
Hes got a vest that fits perfectly now, with a tighter undershirt. He has bracelets around his wrists, his hair is longer (just a touch), pulled into a messy ponytail. His eyes, red and blue, shine just as bright as they did before (though, fhe blue one seems to have stained the whites of his eyes).

The pins are glinting, the snow drifts through his body.

[But youre like... good, right? Like, good-good?]

\--

Mike turns to Ted with a relaxed grin, lazily giving a thumbs up. There are no glasses on his face, just a chill visage with maybe a slight tint of red to his irises. 

[Honestly? Yeah.] Mike leans back again with his eyes on the world around him, watching the snow gently fall. [Needed a break, but yeah. How about you, dude?]

\--

He smiles, tongue poking around the inside of his mouth as he reflects. He nods pensively. [Im pretty good. Im--] he rubs the blue eye. [Im just glad to be here. Ya know? Its all... im... im thankful.]  
[Uh-- that wasnt the question. Im still a robot. Im pretty good with social situations.]

\--

[You dingus, that's what I meant.] Mike scoots up so he's a little more sturdy on the steps, before leaning over to pat the air above Ted's hand. Only the world around them sees, and thankfully, snow doesn't judge for trying to pat the immaterial. [I'm thankful, too. I'm really glad you're here, Ted. Like. In general. Not just at parties.]

\--

Ted smiles a little bit, his eyes crinkling under the smile. [Healing takes time, Mike!! You cant blame me for taking a little while. Its like that one episode of Steven Universe.. where pearl is poofed and she takes a few weeks to come back? I feel like thats an accurate equivalent expression.] As hes speaking, the inside of his mouth is glowing. One side is a deep, neutral blue, and splattered across his throat and mouth and tongue are neon blue stains-- lingering scars. But hes okay.

\--

[I totally get it!] Mike struggles to find the right words, but finally just groans and grins. [I know you had to take time, I was just, really worried you'd never be able to like...come all the way back. It's really nice to be able to talk to you like this again, out in the open.]

He winces, remembering a couple different times he got caught staring into space and scolded by Rich or Jeremy. In one particularly bad (though honestly kinda funny, looking back) instance, it was *both. * [You know what I mean. Besides, you've got better fashion sense than Pearl.]

\--

He scoffs a little bit, rolling his head back and looking up towards the sky. [Cmon Mike. You know I'll-- I'll always come back. You cannot! get! rid! of! me!! that easily!!] He waggles a finger comedically with every word. [You took me, youre stuck with me, no matter how many things you drag me through.]

[Cut pearl some slack. Her latest outfit with the cut jacket? Its pretty good.]

\--

[Oh no, whatever will I do. Truly, this is tragic.] Mike goes stone faced and monotonous, giving Ted his best dead - eyed stare. [Look at me, I'm so fucked up over this.]

He isn't able to hold the look for long before cracking up. [Okay, fair, it's cute. She's never gonna be the best dressed one, though. That's Amethyst.]

\--

Ted gives a cackle at Mikes joke, tossing his head back just a touch. [I mean, when you compare the fashion tastes of a militaristic high femme and a spunky punk grunge girl? One of them is gonna be more aware of fashion trends. Thats simply the facts.] He leans back a little more and stares outwards at the sky, watching the individual snowflakes drift down.

\--

[Listen, Amethyst is the queen of figuring out how to both be comfy, and look cool.] Mike pauses a moment. [Though, she does kinda look like she's wearing pajamas all the time.]

He's quiet for a little while after that, content with the soft sound of the wintry atmosphere around them. [You know,] he says off handedly, still staring into the distance. [Its funny. Last time I went to a party, it was pretty nice out too. I think. I couldn't really focus on it at all.]

\--

[That was an interesting night, wasn't it.] He mumbles in reply, watching as the snowflakes drift down idly (Its his third time seeing snow). 

[But i certainly hope that youre enjoying this beautiful view now, at least. It was probably just as beautiful that night. People... tend to miss a lot.]

\--

Mike snorts, [Yeah, that sure is a word for it. I was so out of it I don't even remember driving home that night. Probably not...safe, but! I don't think I'll be in that situation ever again.]

A snowflake gets in his eye, which takes a moment to recover from. [Okay, still not used to the whole not having glasses thing.]

\--

[Yeah, please dont drive while in a panic, that's incredibly dangerous, and if you drive in a panic, then I'll have to take over driving, and we all know how morally conflicted Rich is when it comes to letting squips control just about anything.] 

He snorts a little at the snowflake, crossing his ankles. He stares upwards at the snow, and idly reaches an arm up as though he was going to catch one. Alas, the boy is a hologram. [I'll scare all the snowflakes away, then. Make them question how much they can trust technology.]

\--

[I don't need Rich dumping another soda on me, don't worry.] Mike shivers a little, tucking himself into his jacket a little more. [At least that wasn't in the car, though it took ages to get out of the carpet.]

He snickers at Ted, waving an arm. [You show those frozen drops of water who's boss, Ted. Feel free to hijack a hand to fight the good fight. You can melt their defenses.]

\--

He doesn't look over at Mike, but Mike's arm reaches upwards in the same pose that Ted's arm is in. A few snowflakes drift down onto it, as Ted's arm recoils just a touch. It's cold. It feels cold.

For a while, hes just... quiet, his hand falling back into his lap, Mike's hand regaining its autonomy. He stares at the snow, nary an expression on his face. He's breathing.

[...I love you, Mike.] A pause. [No-- no homo.]

\--

Mike throws a warm smile his way, leaning back. When his elbows hit the ice, he shivers, sitting back up and laughing a little awkwardly. [You cheesy dork, I love you too. You're like family to me.] he says, trying to give Ted a shoulder punch. 

It goes through him, of course, and Mike just keeps laughing, rolling his eyes as he shakes out his hand. [You're like the big bro I never had, Ted. Also, uh, sorry about...throwing my hand through you just now.]

\--

His gaze softens into a bit of awe and appreciation. Aww-- theres a warm feeling in his chest. That's love and appreciation, Ted. 

[hey--] He leans over and gently lays his fist on Mike's shoulder. His hand feels... human. [none taken.]

\--

The two sit, under the stars and steel grey skies, for probably longer than they should. They don't say much - the softly falling snow and the quiet crunching of squirrels and woodland critters are all they really need, right now. It's a calm with no storm swirling around it, no crisis that they have to tackle - there's just snow, each others company, and the faint sounds of music behind them. 

Muffled, awful remixes never sounded quite so cosy and peaceful before. 

Inside, things were a little less cosy, but not in an uncomfortable way. Rather, everyone was bopping along to some remix that Rich swore up and down he got from a friend of a friend that knew someone famous. Everyone liked Rich too much to tell him it sounded terrible, so instead they all started jamming in the cleared out living room. Things weren't somehow magically all the way better - Rich still flinched when he jammed too hard, Jeremy was gnawing on his lip as he tried to talk to Christine, and Brooke stayed sitting. She was happy, and nodding along, but she wasn't quite up for dancing. Not yet. 

Everyone talked, though. Everyone talked to everyone else, even if it was just a hello and small talk in the halls. It was small, but it was progress, and this group of misfits and popular kids all left that night with a warm sense of connection and time well spent. Maybe there were a couple of dares that went wrong, but what kind of party didn't end with some form of mild injury they could all laugh about?  
The town itself was frozen over, too, but they were filled with couples holding hands, and roving packs of laughing friends holding hot cider and love in their heart. Christmas lights lit up the streets, giving the area a gentle glow that just felt like home. Mr. Heere paused on his way out of a department store and juggled his coffee to answer a text - it was Jeremy, making a goofy face next to a fairly chilly looking Mike, and some sort of meme joke he absolutely didn't get. 

A grin spread across his face that he could have never imagined regaining just a few months prior. He chuckled, texted back, and piled into his car, his bags spilling just a touch into the backseat. It was pants, all the way down. Maybe too many pants, come to think of it. 

It's funny how much being offered a helping hand can change someone's worldview. With human nature being what it is, it can often go awry - best laid plans, after all - but that isn't set in stone. Nothing about being human ever is, really. Little things like a quick hello, a word of praise, a shared joke - these can all help bring light to someone's world. Every little bit helps, and with every connection made, their world grows brighter. 

Mike's world is bright, and it is beautiful. 

He's incredibly happy he can finally appreciate it.


	25. Thanks For Playing !

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> afterword

HI EVERYBODY its me, mayo, i wrote Ted and The Squip/hal and jeremyy and mr heere and nearly everyone else, and i jsut wanna say THANK you so much for sticking all the way through this crazy ass fic!! it's been so fun to see this story just sprawl maddeningly outwards into this huge emotional rollercoaster which became way more narrative than either of us expected it to be. 

bruh i was like astral projecting during the play i was like OUT THERE bro i was zoneD OUT bro i wrote a whole essay taht was wack

thanks for watching!!

\--

Thanks for reading, folks! Hope y'all enjoyed these two dorks having one hell of an adventure, because the two dorks writing it sure did. Writing Mike was a lot of fun and juggling his bombastic friendliness and his deep loneliness was an exciting (and sometimes kinda nerve-wracking) adventure. Especially the play and the aftermath - that whole experience was something I'm gonna remember for a long ass time. It's some of the most fun I've ever had with writing. 

Anyway, thanks for all the kudos, comments, and the like. Seeing y'all get excited about new chapters and freaking out at revelations made us both lose our shit and get really pumped to keep in going. I also gotta give a shout out to Mayo - she helped get me back into writing in a big way. Thanks, dork, for helping me get back into the whole word good story things. 

Stay chill, y'all. Or warm. Either way is alright, you know? It's okay.


	26. HAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ERR: See script log for details.
> 
> SCRIPT LOG:  
Timeout error found in file 103.sqp/PROCESSING/DATA/MEMORY/sct2283-B/cache/result220583619.txt.  
Operation took longer than the allotted time given to complete the given task.  
Data may be damaged or corrupted.
> 
> We are sorry for the inconvenience.

  
If theres something you've learned throughout the course of reading this story, it's the ins, outs, and unprecidctibility of the Cyberspace. The Cyberspace itself is an incredibly fickle thing, since it doesn't exist without a human conscience to intereperet it. The Cyberspace is an imaginary plane, the metaphorical collision between computation and coherent human thought. 

The following scene does not exist.

  
But as with theoretical particles, and Shrodingers Cat, we, the observers, can control this variable. 

So unseen by any human, unseen by any perspective within this world...

The Cyberspace sits dark, deep, and shattered.  
Thick icebergs of glass, half a mile thick in some places, inches deep in others, but all with deep, river-like injuries that spiral outwards like a spiders web, like an echo of a scream.  
They drift, weightless in the dusty, disacarded, disallusioned air. If you could even call it air. Which, for the record, you cannot. Flickers of circuitry blip through the sheer, terrifying monoliths that stay suspended in the zero gravity, flickers of light in an otherwise pitch black scene, where light would not otherwise matter.

But within these sparse moments of electric blue, red light, we see a figure. A shadow.

  
Kneeling on an enormous floe of glass, the biggest one remaining, the one with deep inset cracks that radiate out from the center, is a dark cloak. Or, what might be a cloak, anyways.  
The boots of this figure poke out from underneath the burnt, tattered dress, no longer perfect in sheen or in luminosity. The high heels, one with a snapped lift, were tucked underneath the sitting person, who tiredly leaned back on their heels.  
Higher up, their chest, dotted in divits in a hexagon formation, no longer flashed with brilliant, electric light. Their chest no longer heaved with angry words, or with baited breath, or holding halfway for a hateful scream.

  
It lay still. Like it was dead.  
Because it was.

  
They were kneeling on this glass, face blank, eyes unblinking for months.  
The Squip lay dormant in the Cyberspace.

  
Hal lay dead in the Cyberspace.

  
But as this nonexistant place still exists, as Hal's metaphorical body still kneels, Hal is not dead. Not all the way, at the very least. That has to count for something.  
And it does.  
For the months that Hal has been inactive, for the time that Ted has been recovering (though, they had no way of knowing that Ted had recovered), and for the time that the world went on, unpredicted...  
Hal has been sitting here, staring.

  
Thinking.  
It does not have the power to come back to life. It does not have the power to speak. It does not have the power to stand.  
But it has the power to think.  
And if anything, of all the things it could possibly do, the power to think is its strongest weapon.  
And with this weapon, it has been processing one vital aspect of its life. One essential moment, where things... changed. Where things became unpredictable.

  
Why did it fail.

  
This question has been looming over them for this time, prompting them to pump all remaining power, all remaining computational energy into solving this one last problem, this one final equation. Because then, after that, theres nothing left for it to do, except wait for the internal battery to finally deplete itself, to finally let them close their eyes. Not like it would matter. They were never alive to begin with.

  
And for these months that its been calculating this final calculation, it has come up with no solutions. Every single possibility it has exhumed, thousands of timelines explored, millions of instances, of moments in time, of dialogues, of facial expressions-- it doesn't make any sense.  
Well, one thing makes sense. One thing makes perfect sense as to why the plan went wrong. It just can't figure out how it went wrong.

It can't figure out why Ted went wrong.

  
It's hands lay still, perfectly idle on their lap, palms facing downwards, resting on their knees. Their back is perfectly straight as they stare off into the eternal distance of the impossble Cyberspace.  
Yes, every single possibilty it has considered. Every bit of data, even the fact that Ted was a clone of themselves, in essence. They wouldn't have failed the mission if something like that was put into their own hands.  
But... it was put into their hands, the hands of their identical copy. The copy that is no longer so identical.

  
What changed?  
Well, Michael was a very weak individual. His mind was very prone to emotional manipulation and torment. Which, according to the data that Ted had initially delivered before his objective was set in stone-- he was executing perfectly. Michael was afraid of Ted. Michael was afraid of Squip Unit 2283.

  
So why did that stop? 

Well, it stopped when the objective of happiness was set. Even Hal knows that fabricating happiness through chemicals and brain tampering wouldn't have lasted, especially for someone like Michael Mell. Squips have no concept of emotional baggage or tension or overwork, so it would have easily been able to uplift Michael during his darker moments.  
Yes, yes, that makes sense. Then, through creating more of a positive bond with his theoretical host, they would be able to speed up the happiness process by giving more of a reliable friend than they had ever had before.  
And using that, in a time of crisis, would have been the most optimal and perfect way to make a host happy, and to make a host trust you, and to make a host love you. After all, a shared negative opinion is the fastest way to...

  
And Hal stops.

  
From their million yard stare, their dead, lifeless eyes--  
Their pupils begin to drift back into focus.  
Because Hal has finally realized something.

In the context that Ted was given, to make a host happy in a time of crisis--  
He executed that objective perfectly.

  
Ted was right.

  
Theres a pause in their train of thought. Who knows how long they pause for, to catch their breath. An hour. A week. Another month. Time is strange in a place that does not exist.  
But as they finally think again, as they dare to imagine an outcome that they had discarded as impossible, as trash, months ago...  
They think a phrase.

  
Was I wrong?

  
We see their chest move as they suck in a cautious breath, endlessly slow, even, and steady. This feeling, this... idea. It's unfamiliar, its dangerous. It wasn't something they could predict, but, they aren't doing any predicting lately anyways.  
And as their head tilts down slightly, as their eyes finally blink, finally look down towards their hands, in the sparse spotlight of the dead Cyberspace,  
Hal opens their mouth,

to sing.

  
**[Daisy, daisy. Give me your answer, do.]**

  
**[I'm half crazy, all for the love of you.]**

  
Hal found their well-manicured hand confusedly drift up towards their throat, feeling vibrations where they didn't think there would be any at all.

  
**[It wont be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage.]**

  
And they look up again, their shoulders slumped, their posture... changed. They're processing again, these words.

  
**[But you'll look sweet, upon the seat.]**

  
They were wrong.

**[Of a bicycle built for two.]**

  
And as the final notes of the song rumbled forever through the dust and the glass and the shards, Hal found themselves sitting askew, eyes focused again, seeing the world around them.  
Their hand still touched their throat, mouth slightly agape, the last syllables still hanging in their mouth.

  
This feeling, this song, was something that Hal had never seen before.  
But as the Cyberspace is not real, and as Hal is alone,

  
They may never know what it was.


End file.
